The Mortal Of Moonshadow
by BloodAndDiamonds
Summary: Lauraine Bellamont is a typical Breton girl, living a typical life of a travelling adventurer. But when the Emperor is assassinated, her past comes back to haunt her, an old love rekindles, and her life in the Daedric realm of Moonshadow is revealed.
1. Escape From Prison

**The Mortal Of Moonshadow.**

**A/N: **I own nothing and no one, apart from Lauraine Bellamont and her dialogue. Anyways, To the first chapter! Which is, by the way, basically escaping the sewers. The next chapters will probably be different to the story line, as it will combine with Lauraine's life. And thankyou to my Beta, TimexHasxGone!

**Summary: **Lauraine Bellamont is a typical Breton girl, living a typical life. But when the Emperor is assassinated, her past comes back to haunt her, old friends that she left behind reappear, and her life in the Daedric realm of Moonshadow is soon to be revealed.

* * *

Lauraines soft, light blue eyes flickered open as a fine drop of water dripped onto her smooth, pale face. Immediately snapping up into a sitting position, she regretted the action; pain reeking through her body. She felt as if someone had just bashed her skull in with the Mace of Molag Bal. This, as she correctly remembered, was the weapon in her hand before she was chucked in here. A low, painful groan escaped her lips as she stood up, swaying to the side and gripping the wall tightly for support. And then, her memory came back.

Lauraine was exploring the first two floors of the Imperial Palace, fascinated by the Ayleid structures that supported the building. She remembered looking towards a door, perfectly sure that it led to the third floor. But something had taken over her; a strong surge of curiosity coursed through her body and forced her to open the hard, heavy wooden door; Coming face to face with a member of the Palace guards. Of course, as she turned to run, she tripped over a stool; whoever put it there was immediately on the top of Lauraines most hated list.

Head whacking off the cold, stone floor, she was arrested right there and then for trespassing. Trespassing and fined, when she had only opened the door. Of course, she just _had _to leave all her money at home. And of course, with no money to pay her fine, she got hauled off to jail. _Bloody brilliant_.

She started to move forwards towards the rusty, metal door of her cell. Slowly, she placed her hands on the door, shaking it once. No luck. The Dunmer in the cell opposite looked up at her, smirking. He moved towards his own cell door. He looked her up and down; causing her to feel very uncomfortable dressed in the prisons uniform. Just as she began to think about _where the hell _her Quilted Doublet and Leather Greaves went, the Dunmer stopped staring at her pervertedly, and spoke up.

"Pale skin, snotty Expression. You're a Breton! The Masters of Magicka, right?"

"Well done Dumbass, you can see..." She hissed in reply. To hell with the Nine Divines, Lauraine was not in the mood.

"Hmph. You're nothing but a stuck up harlot with cheap parlour tricks. Go ahead and try your Magicka in here. Let's see you make those bars disappear. No? What's the matter? Not so powerful now, are you Breton?" He answered back, clear disdain etched on his face. Oh the idiot.

"Not sure how thick headed you are Dunmer..." The last word rolled off her tongue thickly; Venom laced in her voice, making even the most deadly of snakes proud. "But there isn't any spells yet known that can make bars magically 'poof' away..." She hissed, rolling her eyes at his stupidity. But she still braced herself as he fired another comeback.

"You're not leaving this prison 'til they throw your body in the lake! Oh, that's right. You're going to die in here Breton! You're going to die!" He shut up for a moment, and the clear clicking of the unlocking of the Prison entrance door is heard clearly.

"You hear that Breton?-"

"Obviously."

"That's the guards. They're coming for you Breton, and now you are going to die!" His voice lowered towards the end of his sentence, but Lauraine had already tuned the arrogant bastard out.

Four figures came into view, and from the colour of their cuirasses, she recognized them as three blades. She stepped back slightly, quickly. The Blades were trained swordsmen, and stepping on their bad side meant a sword drawn and ran through said persons insides. Lauraine shuddered, and set her eyes on the fourth person.

_Well I'll be, the Emperor in an Imperial Prison?_

The female Blade at the front, an obvious fellow Breton, glared down at Lauraine.

"What is this prisoner doing here? I left orders that this cell was to remain unoccupied!" She barked, causing the two other Blades to flinch. Lauraine looked at them both, almost smirking at the fact that they were scared of the Breton. They were both Redguards, one looking slightly more stressed than the other. It was he who replied.

"Um...Usual mix up with the watch I guess, I'll-"

"No matter. Stand back prisoner, we won't hesitate to kill you if you get in our way" The female yelled at her. Lauraine stepped back, but evidently, not far enough. The first male Blade spoke up.

"Get over by the window!" He hissed at her. Lauraine stepped backwards simultainiously, as the door swung open. The female, obviously the captain, walked past Lauraine, ignoring her. Behind her, came Uriel Septim. He looked over towards Lauraine, back at the Captain, and then back at Lauraine. She froze in her step.

_He going to tell me off now? _

_  
_"You...I've seen you, let me see your face..." The Emperor muttered, ordered more than asked. Lauraine held back a bitter retort, instead forcing herself to look Uriel Septim in the eyes. Holding back a steady gasp, she realized that she had seen those eyes before. Seen them, when she wholly believed that no one else could ever have eyes like them. But that proved wrong as she looked into the Emperors brilliant, bright blue eyes that shined even in the darkness.

"Um..." Lauraine started, but the Emperor started talking again.

"Then the stars were right, and today is the day. Gods give me strength"

"Why are you here?" Lauraine asked him, politely yet bluntly. He looked back at Lauraine, and she once again locked eyes with him.

"Assassins attacked my sons, and I am next. My blades are leading me out of a secret escape route. By chance, the entrance to that route passes through your cell"

"Sire, we have to go." The redguard spoke. Uriel Septim turned away from Lauraine, leaving her to ponder what to do. Her jaw dropped as she noticed that the right wall of her cell was gone, replaced with a long, dark and eerily looking tunnel.

"Better not close this one. There's no way to open it from the other side" The female captain spoke.

"Looks like this is your lucky day. Just stay out of our way." The final blade spoke. Lauraine couldn't help but smile at him: At least he attempted to add some dry humour to this dark situation. She followed a few feet behind them, her soft footsteps low and quiet compared to the heavy, loud footsteps of the Blades' boots. She heard the silent sound of a blade being drawn, and looking up, three men stepped out from the shadows, all wearing floor length red robes. In union, all three summoned magical armour, protecting their bodies with thick steel. Lauraine drew her fists, and without realizing it, walked straight into the Emperor.

"Protect yourself" Was all he said, drawing his own blade and running it through one of the assassins, the blade entering the assassin through his steel armour, and then leaving throughout his back. Lauraine smirked at the agility and grace of the old man; her childhood friends not having the same agility. The Emperor turned, his eyes focused and trained on something, or someone behind Lauraine. Instinctively, she spun around, delivering a kick straight into a fourth assassin's groin. He keeled, and taking a risky chance, Lauraine turned her back to him, searching for a weapon. Her eyes narrowed into Captain Renault, who lay dead on the floor.

"Sorry Captain..." She muttered quietly, taking the katana and spinning quickly on the spot. The assassin was still keeled over, and so, swiftly and harshly, she brought the sharp and heavy blade down onto the back of his neck, breaking it and effectively cutting through his tendons. Blood sprayed onto the wall, Lauraine moved back. She wasn't fond of the idea of having a murderers blood all over her.

"Come on sire, we need to keep moving." Baurus muttered to the Emperor mournfully.

"Captain Renault?" He asked, sorrow reflected in his eyes, as well as remorse.

"She's dead Sire. I'm sorry, but we ave to keep moving." Baurus stated once more, slightly pulling the Emperor. Lauraine walked forwards, past the other redguard, Glenroy.

"You handled yourself pretty well back there." He remarked respectfully. He smiled slightly, and then his face fell back into a scowl. "But that doesn't mean I trust you"

"Ditto"

Glenroy rolled his eyes at the Breton, turning instead to open up a locked door infront of him. Searching through the darkness, he stepped into said door. Seemingly satisfied with the absence of movement, he returned, nodding to the Emperor and Baurus. Both of them walked through slowly, and the aura of unsteadiness unnerved Lauraine. Almost getting killed did nothing to help that feeling. Glenroy turned to Lauraine.

"Stay put prisoner. You can't follow us" Was all he said, before the door locked. Lauraine silently cursed at not having any lock picks on her.

* * *

**-Some half hour later-**

* * *

Lauraine cursed loudly, glaring at the cut raging down the left side of her right arm. Her legs ached as if she had just run the length of the Imperial City, and her breath was coming in ragged gasps. She had stupidly entered Natural Caverns plainly, not sneaking, not placing a concealment charm on her. And that resulted in a Goblin Shaman attacking her, long sword and all. One quick slash and the soft skin on her arm was pulled apart.

She could see a hole in the crumbling walls; bright light bursting through. Evidently another part of the Ayleid Imperial Subterrane. Sitting with her legs dangling out, she swiftly ripped half of the prisons pants leg off, tightly wrapping it around the wound. Reminding herself to buy a healing potion the second she got out of the rat infested place, she jumped off the ledge, just in time to hear another conversation between the Emperor and his guards.

"We should stay here and wait until help arrives" One of the Blades announced. A second voice, that of Baurus, came loud and angry.

"Help? What makes you think help will come before more of those bastards?!" He yelled, his voice strained. Lauraine took it upon herself to make herself shown, jumping off another ledge behind Baurus. Glenroy looked at her, and drew his blade.

"Kill her. She might be working with the assassins" He ordered. Lauraine instantly stepped backwards, slightly scared. If they decided to attack her, she wouldn't be able to hold off _two _members of the Blades. But the Emperor held his arm up.

"No, she is not one of them. We can trust her." With that being said, Glenroy sheathed his blade.

"Come closer. I would prefer not to have to shout" The Emperor kindly ordered. Lauraine stepped closer, looking again into the brilliant blue eyes of the Emperor. "They do not understand why I trust you. They have not seen what I have seen."

"In truth your highness, I myself do not know why you trust me." Lauraine answered back to him. He smiled, his features brightening. It was highly obvious that he must have been handsome in his youth. And that in turn, sparked a memory inside Lauraine. A young boy, helping an eight year old Lauraine from a ditch and taking her back to his home city. A boy, with the eyes of the Emperor.

"How can I explain? Listen. You know the Nine? How they guide and protect us? Guide our fates with an invisible hand?" He asked her. Lauraine looked down, deciding to be truthful rather than lie.

"Personally, I am not on good terms with the Nine."

"No matter. I have served the Nine all my life. The skies are marked with numberless sparks, each a fire and every one a sign. I know these signs well, and I wonder...Which sign marked your birth?" He asked her calmly, uncaring that she hated the Nine with her very soul. A voice echoed in her head.

_Should you ever be asked that question child, always give the answer that relates to my realm. For that, is always going to be your sign._Lauraine nodded to no one in particular, and told the Emperor the answer that truly was her own birth sign.

"The shadow" She answered truthfully, old memories flashing through her mind, as well as that voice.

"The signs I read show the end of my path." He confides, his voice slightly shaken, although well hidden behind the strong facade of royalty. "My death, a necessary end, will come when it will come."

"What about me?" Lauraine had to ask. If he was going to die, did that mean she would too?

"Your stars are not mine. Today the Shadow shall hide you from destiny's cunning hounds" The Emperor told her. She raised an eyebrow delicately.

"Can you see my fate?" She asked quietly, almost afraid to ask.

"My dreams grant me no opinions of success. Their compass ventures not beyond the doors of death. But in your face, I behold the sun's companion. The dawn of Akatosh's bright glory may banish the coming darkness. With such hope, and the promise of your aid, my heart is satisfied." Lauraine looked at him. He was smart, she'd give him that. And very wise. But the coming darkness?

"Aren't you afraid to die?" She asked. He smiled, blue eyes twinkling.

"No trophies of my triumphs precede me. But I have lived well, and my ghost shall rest easy. Men are but flesh and blood. They know their doom, but not the hour. In this, I am blessed to see the hour of my death." Another wise answer from the old man. His hair shone in the light of the Ayleid structures, but Lauraine had one last question to ask.

"Where are we going?" She asked, glancing behind her at the two Blades, who were watching with interest.

"I go to my grave. A tongue shriller than all the music calls me. You shall follow me yet for a while, then we must part." With that said, he turned to face his Blades.

Baurus tapped Lauraine on the shoulder, holding out a torch.

"Here, you may as well take this, make yourself useful" Lauraine took the torch in her hands, squinting her eyes at the bright, flickering flame that warmed her.

"What do the Blades do exactly?" Lauraine asked Baurus. He looked at her for a moment, shocked that she should even ask such a question.

"The Blades are sworn to protect the Emperor. Although I admit, things are not going according to plan." He informed her, pushing her forwards to light up the path ahead. Turning another corner, more assassins jumped out, attempting to assassinate the Emperor again.

Another fight ensued, and many cuts, stabs and blood drawn later, five more assasssins lay dead upon the floor. Following them through the next door, Lauraine accompanied Glenroy into the middle of the next room, to ensure no more assassins jumped out. She glanced over at the metal mesh door, knowing full well that it was barred. Glenroy confirmed her suspicions.

"Damnit! A trap!"

"Excuse me? What about that passage there?" Lauraine pointed out, walking towards it. As soon as the words left her mouth, more assassins emerged from behind them; Baurus shoving both the Emperor and Lauraine into the passage.

"Stay here with the Emperor, guard him with your life!" Lauraine nodded in fear, looking at the Emperor. He was fiddling with a clasp on the back of his neck, fumbling until he finally unclapsed the Amulet of Kings.

He handled over the glittering jewel, placing the Amulet into her hand. He closed her fingers over it, the Jewel glowing at his touch.

"I can go no further. You alone must stand against the Prince of Destruction and his mortal servents. He must not have the Amulet!" He smiled again. "Take it to Jauffre. He alone knows where to find my illegitamate son. Find him, and close shut the jaws of Oblivion."

Lauraine attempted to say something, but was cut off when the sound of stone being moved came from behind her. She was roughly pushed forward onto the ground, her eyes widening as the assassin that emerged mercilessley struck the down the helpless Emperor in a single strike, before turning his sights onto Lauraine. He advanced towards her, Lauraine scuffling backwards into a corner. Just as he was about to run her through with his sword, another sword was ran through him, the peak of the blade stopping short in front of Lauraine's face. It was removed quickly, and the assassin fell to the floor in a heap, dead. Baurus sheathed his blade, turning towards the Emperors body.

"No. Talos save us. We failed. I've failed. The blades are sown to protect the Emperor and now he and all his heirs are dead." He announced solemly. Lauraine spoke up, her voice slightly shaken.

"Not quite..."

"Excuse me?" Baurus looked at her confused.

"There is another Heir. The Emperor gave me the Amulet of Kings, and told me to give it to Jauffre."

"Strange. He saw something in you. Trusted you. They say it's the dragon blood that flows through every Septim. Anyways, about the heir, nothing I ever heard about. But Jauffre would be the one to know. He lives in a chapter house at Weynon Priory. He is the Grandmaster of our order. Although you wouldn't think so to meet him. Take this key. It should get you through the next part of the sewers. That's where we were heading. There are rats and goblins down there. But from what I've seen of you, I'm guessing you are an experienced Knight. Am I right?" Lauraine looked at him, slightly insulted.

"No, assassin..." She told him, bitterness edging her voice.

"I was almost right. Same skills almost. Anyway, you need to get out of here." He ordered her. Lauraine nodded, handing over the Katana and picking up the Emperors short sword.

She took off through the side passage quickly and swiftly, avoiding all goblins and rats. Exiting from the sewers, she smiled. Taking in the sweet breath of fresh air, she swam across to the Island infront. An Ayleid ruin stood tall on the island, masking in its eternal beauty. An arrow flew past her, and she cursed when she heard the soft padding footsteps of a Bandit coming behind her.


	2. First Meeting

**A/N: **This chapter is mainly focused on Lauraines past, and will mainly be told in first person. The first part of this chapter is Lauraine's view on a person in her past and therefore is _not _a memory. Thenit will move onto her actual memory. Third person parts will be the present time. Thanks to my Beta; TimexHasxGone. And, for the usual disclaimer: I do not own Oblivion, or any of its realms/provinces. I only own Lauraine Bellamont.

**The Mortal Of Moonshadow: Chapter 2**

_There have been quite a few men in my life. Friends and family alike. Random strangers that I passed on the streets would class as men in my life. To say that none of these men ever made an impact on me would be lying.__  
Lies are frowned upon in most places. Start one lie, and a whole string of lies follows. Thus, building an entire web of lies without realizing it. Simply saying that you can't find your mothers favourite mead glass could start up the spider's web. _

_So, I'll be truthful. No **men **ever made an impact on my life. Men being, a fully grown adult. No. But there was a boy. A teen._

_A teen I knew when I was between the ages of eight and seventeen. Three years older than me, he almost saved my life. **Almost**. A teen with dark hair, brilliant bright blue eyes, and a charm about him that made most of our female friends weak at the knees. A teen that never left my side since the moment we met. _

_A teen who, when I was at my lowest and leaving my 'home' town of Kvatch, called after me until his throat went dry. Until the thudding of the rain on my clothes was no longer heard, and my bright blonde hair could no longer be seen in the velvety darkness of the night. A teen who never heard my quiet whisper of "Love is never easy. Sacrifices must be made, and thus, I give you up". _

_  
And so, I guess he never knew how I really felt about him. When I had re-entered the town mere weeks later, only he would ever be possible of recognizing me; had I made an impact on him of course. Walking up to my adopted mother, even she did not know who I was. She cried over the disappearance of a child who stood right infront of her. _

_

* * *

_

**-A Locked Memory -**

I slowly opened my eyes, cursing all that breathes when I felt something hard in my abdomen. A low grunt of pain escaped my lips, and the sound of wood snapping caused me to snap up into a sitting position, my arms flailing over my head. When nothing struck me, I cracked open one eyelid, taking in my surroundings.

I seemed to be sitting in the middle of a burnt down shop, burnt wood standing tall from the ground, yet weakened enough that a strong gust of wind could come along and push them down. Strong scents of different ingredients hung in the air: Nightshade, steel blue entoloma, Green stained cup cap, the lot. So this was obviously an Alchemy shop. Well, _was._ My deduction was confirmed when a strong wind flew past, causing a loud creak to be heard. Looking towards the source of the creak, an old, worn and weathered sign stood in the ground. I could faintly make out the words 'All Things Alchemical' written across it in intricate elegant writing.

Scowling at the mere fact that they had decided to send me back into a _burned out _building, I looked down at my own body. My metal purple armour was gone. My enchanted, prized and expensive purple Gauntlets, skirtish thing and doublet, were _gone. _Instead, I was in only my undergarments, a black cloak shrouding my body. Snorting, I imagined them laughing at me right now, laughing at how pissed off I was. Pushing aside the cloak, I swore like a sailor when I realized I was in the body of an eight year old mortal. Meridia's last words to me revolved around my head.

_I give you one gift child. Not because I have grown to admire you whilst you have lived with the fellow prince Azura, but because I think that someone like you should never have to go through with the mortal mutation of aging. When you are cast back to Tamriel, you shall be mortal. You shall not age past Twenty-Five. However, you will still be mortal. You will be able to die by conventional means. So, my dear, make sure you remember how to dodge a sword._

_  
_Okay, so fair enough. When I was living back in Moonshadow, I was constantly in the body of an eight year old. But couldn't they at least give me a fourteen year olds body? I snorted. Daedric princes. Can't trust them with your life. Slowly, cautiously, I did up the ties on my cloak. After all, I was not going to wander around Cyrodiil with my undergarments on show. I pushed the heavy charred wood off my stomach, tucking my legs in and jumping up swiftly and gracefully.

Jumping over the ruined wood, I landed lightly onto the stoned, cobbled road that separated me from the thick forests. A ruin of some sort stood next to the road, a tall, beautiful archway hovered over a ruined dirt path that twisted and turned up towards the entrance. The archway itself was captivating enough, a sheer beauty radiating from it and catching a human eye. Vines of Morning Glory twisted themselves all around it, therefore holding it together but also adding to the effect it created. Snapping my eyes away from the stonework, I saw a mortal boy heading my way. He couldn't have been younger than eleven.

Curious that, a boy of his age should be wandering down a road on his own. Quickly, I tumble-rolled forwards out of his sight. Literally. As soon as I rolled over a pile of leaves, they moved to the side. Revealing a ditch. Falling into it, I screamed when I landed on something furry. Said furry thing looked up at me, almost as shocked as me at my appearance. I noticed it was a rat, with the horrible pink, scaly nose, and the dirty, smelly fur. My skin crawled, the hairs on my arms rising when it jumped on me, nibbling into the soft skin of my arm.

I screamed again, louder, more desperately. Surely the boy that I was hiding from must have heard me? Young or not, he couldn't be that thick. I heard the comforting sound of a blade being drawn, and screamed again when yet another rat decided to join the first. I punched one rat straight in the skull, a pleasant, comforting yet sickening sound of bones being crunched reaching my ears. I immediately kicked the rat to one side, and focused on the other rat. Hearing a soft thud behind me, I hissed, feeling the dread that normally comes with more rats.

But when I stepped backwards, I did not expect to bump into another body. My head snapped to look at the person, a stinging feeling of whiplash aching throughout my neck. I noticed that the person in the ditch with me was indeed the boy from earlier. He cut one rat to pieces with an iron shortsword. I watched in admiration, yet slightly taken back. The Daedric people in Moon shadow normally fought with much stronger weapons. He gripped my arm, yanking me backwards and behind him with force. It so happens that it was my wounded arm that he grabbed and I hissed in pain. He didn't turn, but instead proceeded to hack the last rat to pieces. He moved with grace, despite his age.

When the rat hacking was done, he sheathed his blade, turning to me with a bright smile on his face. Returning the smile half heartedly, I looked up.

"Okay, so I guess I should thankyou for helping me. But see, I see a problem..."

"Really? What might that be?" He asked me, cockily.

"Well, you see. With you down here, and both of us inside a tall ditch, how are we supposed to get out?" I asked in reply. He smirked at me.

"Simple. Watch and learn." He answered. He drew his blade, sinking it deeply into the wall of the ditch. Jumping onto it, he grinned proudly before gripping a stray branch of a tree, and pulling himself up.

"I'm alot smaller than you. I won't be able to reach that branch." I revealed to him. He smirked.

"Pass me my blade" I did as he asked, spending several minutes attempting to pull the blade away. When it complied, I threw it up out of the ditch, before realizing something.

"Are you ditching me?!"

"Ironic you should say that. Ditching a girl in a ditch." He laughed softly, lightly. It sounded like a true laugh, and it caused me to blush unexpectedly. Thank Azura that I had my hood up.

_Keep it together Lauraine. 8 year olds don't tend to blush!__  
_

"Well, you've got your blade, and you are out of this ditch. I'm still stuck here, and so it seems to me that you are ditching me. In a ditch." I retorted, folding my arms. He smirked down at me.

"Well, if you are so content with me leaving you here, I might do just that. Bye random stranger girl"

"Hey! Get back here!" I yelled after him, his ignorance slightly getting to me, yet his joking demeanour making me smile. He laughed sweetly from the top, and I heard a blade being thrust into the hard mud. His hand gripped it and he leaned down.

"Take my hand." His hand hovered above my head, and I resisted the urge to use Shocking Touch on him. Snickering to myself, I gripped it.

"Eugh! Your hands all sweaty!"

"Look, if my hands are _that _sweaty, I'll just leave you here!"

"You know, if you weren't so arrogant, I'd say you saved my life back there."

"Arrogant? How does a kid like you know long words like that?" He asked sarcastically, pulling me up. My feet hovered above the ground for a few moments, and then I was pulled roughly up over the edge. Scowling, I noticed that the ends of my cloak were now covered with mud. They boy followed the direction that my head was pointing.

"You can't expect to fall in a ditch and not get Dirty. Anyway, why are you even wandering these roads?" He asked me. _Oh bugger. _What was I supposed to say?

"I-I um. I don't know. I woke up in that building and I can't remember anything. I pointed ominously at the burnt building. He snorted.

"You woke up in the remains of the Alchemist building?!"

"No, I woke up under a rock. Of course I woke up there! Do you think I'm lying?!"

"No, I believe you. For some strange, strange reason. I believe you." He looked down at me with a childish smile on his face, his bright blue eyes sparkling. I'd never, ever seen a colour of blue like that before. It was the colour of the Gold Coast, mixed with the slightest of white and in turn, creating a most beautiful and rare shade of blue. His eyes flickered from mine to the bleeding wound on my arm. I shrugged off his look of concern, muttering a restore health spell. The skin stitched itself together, any form of infection seeping out in the form of a grotesque puss.

"How old are you?" The words fell from his mouth before he could stop them. "Sorry, I've been told to never ask a lady her age, but seriously. How old are you?" I smirked at his weak attempt to cover up his question.

"Eight years old. Yourself?"

"Eleven."

"Eleven? Why are you walking down a road this late in the day at the age of eleven?"

"I could ask you the same thing-" I decided to cut infront of him.

"I have an excuse. I don't remember my family, where I live, or why the hell I am here. I just happened to wake up in the remains of an Alchemist store." I pointed out. A blatant lie. How long until the web is made, the silk threads standing strong and every one a lie? He shrugged.

"Okay, you win. Nowhere to live? No parents?"

"No and no..."

"That's highly convenient. Come with me." He grabbed my arm, pulling me along the road he had previously been travelling on. _Oh for the love of Azura, why do I not like the sound of this?_

* * *

**- Present Time -**

"Goddamn bandits!" Lauraine fell to her knees, effectively dodging another arrow that was sent spiralling through the air in her direction. She hissed; not an uncommon habit. She rolled to the side, jumping up and throwing a spell at the bandit. The woman froze, paralyzed: her arrow still nocked in the bow. Lauraine smirked at the female Dunmer, taking the bow and arrow.

"Ooh, Elven eh? Nice make, use some good arrows they do." Lauraine barked at the woman, before nocking an arrow and letting it fly through the woman's skull. Kicking the woman's body to assure her she was dead; Lauraine hooked her bow and arrows on her back.

Breathing in deeply, she dived into the water again, its icy coldness stabbing at her skin like knives. The weight of the prisons uniform seemed to drag her under, deeper. Struggling, she crawled up the shore, smiling to herself as the light of an inn shone through the dark shadow that seemed to overtake the province.

* * *

**- Memory again-**

"No. No and No! I refuse!" Protesting against something I didn't want was a weakness of mine. I could never win arguments. My new companion looked down at me, rolling his eyes when I curled into a ball on the church bench.

"And how do you plan on surviving? Where will you live?" He asked me. He was stubborn, driving me into accepting a home with two Imperials. Said two Imperials where currently outside the church, awaiting my decision.

"I can live here. The gods will protect me..."

"Sure, but the gods won't be giving you food, will they? Just accept their offer! You'll have a roof over your head, food, and two people to care for you!" I groaned, pulling my hood further down my face.  
"I'll buy some..."

"Where will you get the money? You are _eight _years old! You can't live on the streets!" I felt him kneel down beside me as he attempted to look me in the eyes. I allowed him to pull my hood back from my face, letting him see me properly for the first time. He smiled sweetly, tugging on my hair. "Blondie. Come on, just try it. They've always wanted a kid, you need someplace to live. It fits together!"

He pressed on like that for another hour, before finally, I agreed. I punched him in the arm, before opening the church doors and nodding to my adopted 'parents'. The lady smiled at me sweetly, and from her clothing, it was obvious she was from high birth. I felt the boy's warm hand grip my wrist.

"Oh, I forgot to ask you. What's your name?" His eyes twinkled innocently in the light of the moon, and I found myself answering kindly with a smile.

"Lauraine...Yours?"

"Martin."

They said he never gave up on me. That he was still clinging onto a thread of hope that a Breton girl would return to the town. A thread of hope I sought to diminish. I spent a week in Kvatch, avoiding him and attempting to 'push' him in the direction of other women.

They say he is now a priest in the Chapel of Akatosh, unmarried. They say he's changed. Apparently, his eyes have lost their shine, their sparkle. A sparkle in the beautiful pools of Azure blue that I still see every time I close my eyes. Ironic that I should use the word Azure, when it so closely relates to the main reason I ever left that town. When it so closely relates to the reason I am repeatedly erased from memory.


	3. So Straight Forward

A/N: As usual, I don't own oblivion or any of its characters. I only own Lauraine Bellamont. Thanks to my Beta, TimexHasxGone,. Thanks to those that review too! And now, to the story! :)

* * *

**The Mortal Of Moonshadow**

**: Chapter 3.**

_Now, I recall saying that I am repeatedly erased from memory. Well, I'll be perfectly honest with you. I'm only partially erased. But let me tell you, it's not something that is useful. Sure, if you live the life of a criminal, it would be pretty handy to commit as many murders as you can in ten years, and then be able to walk right into the middle of the Imperial City without so much as a bounty._

_Of course, if you don't live the life of a criminal, and you seek to live a perfectly normal mortal life, then it is not so useful. It's damn annoying. I spent nine years living in Kvatch, a city I found something I treasured. A city where I, uncontrollably and unwillingly, found love. If it was one sided, or if those feelings were returned, I do not know. All because of a stupid curse._

_Every ten years, there is a cycle of moons. As mortals living upon Tamriel, we do not notice as many of these moons as we should. We notice only two. There are but three moons hanging high above us in the depths of the night sky. Every ten years, in the month of Heartfire, that third moon is visible. And when that third moon is visible, my face is erased from the mind._

_The memory of me still lies in every person I have ever come into contact with, but my name and face will always escape them. So, I keep my name, and instead restart the decade with a different history._

_However, there shall always be a twist to every curse. Any curse, no matter how powerful, or how destructive, shall always have one flaw. When a curse is set upon its destructive course, to affect those who it has been cast upon, __**it shall always have a flaw**__. All curses affect the mind, body or the way we ourselves perform. A curse can wheedle its way deep into the minds of other, severing and breaking strings that the victim deems important. A curse cannot, however, affect the deeper feelings. As just stated, a curse shall break tendons in the mind. But the heart, as cliche as it sounds, holds its own feelings. Any feelings, memories or dreams that the heart deems important, are locked away inside a corner of the mind that the curse shall __**never**__ reach. Like an unbreakable lock, any curse cannot weaken, severe or penetrate this barrier. This shall result in the most life changing experiences, people and items never being erased; never being affected. _

_This caused a great and dire problem for me; In Kvatch, I realized that my closest friend would never forget me, my face or my name. So, what would I do when every other person in that town did not know who I was, and yet he still knew? He would suspect, and would turn out making things much more difficult for me. Leaving the town was the hardest thing I ever did. Perhaps if I had not heard the pain in his voice, the betrayal and despair that lingered on the end of every word he spoke: It would have been easier. But when I heard him shouting my name over and over again, when I saw him clinging to the smallest hope that I would turn around, it killed me inside. And returning to the town mere weeks later was worse. Watching him walk the streets at night from nearby rooftops, the anguish on his face made me guilty. Knowing I was so close to him that he could hear the flapping of my cloak in the wind was pure agony. But the worst was not being able to run to him, throw my arms around him and tell him I loved him until my own throat went dry, until my voice cracked from the underlying promise that I would never leave him again. But reality, and my own selfish needs prevented me from doing that. Reality is surely a painful thing, bitter as the juice of nightshade, when all you dream about proves to be another string in a thread of lies that you built on high rocks._

_

* * *

_

Lauraine looked disdainfully at the rotting wooden door to Roxy Inn. A drunk Imperial Legion Soldier sat on the bench beside the door, talking to his horse. His voice slurred, and if Lauraine heard correctly, he was confessing his undying love for the horse. Feeling physically sick, she placed her hand on the door, pushing it open and retracting the hand like the door was on fire. Wiping her hands on the waist of her shirt, she stepped into the dimly lit Inn. Receiving many glares from the few women, and perverted stares from their husbands caused Lauraine to smirk. Sending out a charm spell, it wasn't long before those death glares turned to smiles. All except one. His face shrouded the darkness supplied by his hood, he slipped past Lauraine, and the heavy feeling of being reverse pickpocketed startled her. Slowly, she placed her hand into the back pocket of her pants, the soft fabric of a money bag touching the tips of her fingers. Smiling sweetly at the bar lady, presumably Roxy herself, Lauraine took out fifteen septims.

"Hello. I was wondering, if you might have a room available for me?" The lady smiled back at Lauraine, her hand digging into her pocket to pick out a rusty key.

"That will be ten gold. It's not the best, but it' a place to sleep" Lauraine sighed heavily, forcing herself to hand over the gold and pocket the rest, when she knew that this room would most probably hold a drawer and a bedroll. A bedroll that would most likely be infested with disease ridden fleas and insects.

"Which room is it?"

"Oh, second one to the left. Sleep well." The lady at the bar waved after her, but Lauraine did nothing to acknowledge it. She climbed the stairs two at a time, desperate to get out of her prison clothes. Pushing open the door to her room, it creaked mournfully, as if it was tired of being constantly opened and closed. Lauraine stepped inside quickly, sitting down on top of the bedroll. She waited for someone, someone who had quietly, silently and stealthily placed the gold in her back pocket. She heard the creaking floorboards from the stairs as a weight was placed onto the first step.

Silently, yet loudly, the creaking creeped closer, until the pressure on the stairs was lifted. Slowly, the echoing footsteps came closer to the door, Lauraines heart stopping when they stopped outside her door. The knob was turned slowly, a dark figure stepping into the room through a slight gap in the door. His hood was thrown back, and Lauraines bright blue eyes locked with the chocolate brown eyes of Lucien Lachance. The light illuminating from the candle reflected off his face, a smirk producing on his features.

"Well well. No wonder your last name means 'The Luck'. You actually managed to find me." The words rolled off her tongue thickly, sarcastically.

"As always sister, your sarcasm continues to surprise me. You forget that I am speaker for the Black Hand. I am a good tracker by nature." His reply was quick, as if he had rehearsed it a million and one times before he said it. Lauraine growled lowly at him.

"Who sent you?"

"Straight to the point eh? You haven't changed one bit. No one sent me sister,-"

"Why are you here then?" Lauraine cut in front. She was slowly getting annoyed, any longer without answers and she would probably plunge a knife into her 'brothers' throat.

"Is a brother not allowed to help his sister?" He asked. The look on his face suggested that he had no intention of helping her.

"Not when a certain 'Brother' is a member of the black hand. Now tell me, why are you helping me?" Lauraine asked the question with desperation in her voice, as well as a clear depicted amount of annoyance. For a few minutes, the only sound was the footsteps of Lucien as he paced the room. He looked deep in thought, stringing together the right words that would cause his main reason for being here much more innocent than it was. His face turned emotionless for a moment, before he shook his head as if to say 'No'. He looked back over at Lauraine, the brown in his eyes swirling calmly.

"I'm here to bring you back. Conscious or not; you were to come with me." He paced back and forth once more, before turning back to Lauraine. "But, I can't place why, something is stopping me from doing that. Whether it is you yourself, or an unknown force, something prevents me from willing to do it. But sister, when have I been one to obey my conscience?" He let out a low laugh, amused at his own words. Lauraine however, wasn't so amused. The black hand is not known for its underlying mercy, and any who cuts their contract short is branded a traitor.

"Always a first for everything" Lauraine murmured quietly, slowly getting up and stepping backwards.

"Ah, sister. You think I am going to attack you?"

"Yes.."

"Maybe, I will save that for some other time. Do not expect this much mercy from me the next time we cross paths."

"That's comforting" Lauraine muttered under her breath. She leaned against the wall, her windswept hair stopping just below her shoulder. Lucien stepped closer, tugging the ends lightly.

"And changing your appearance shall not make any difference. Shorter hair, or completely bald, the Black hand will find you." He locked eyes with her again; Lauraine sighed heavily. She hugged her body, walking past him and looking out the window of her small room.

"My days in the brotherhood are behind me Lucien. All those murders, all those rewards. All the wrongs I made, I'm trying to set them right." She shivered as a cold breeze tickled her skin. "And the first thing I do is get myself locked up, meet the Emperor, and be the last one to talk to him before he gets assassinated. Just like what was my profession." She laughed harshly, the same way she would laugh after a kill.

Lucien looked at her curiously. One of the sanctuary's pride assassins feeling remorse? Most of the assassins in the Cheydinhal sanctuary would rather be killed _viscously_ rather than admit weakness. Lauraine Bellamont, the youngest assassin in that place. He had, at first, wondered if she was related to Mathieu Bellamont. Mathieu Bellamont was a fellow speaker, who quite frankly, creeped Lucien out. Lucien felt like he was being watched by the brother, and had no clue why.

"Maybe, in the future perhaps, the Brotherhood will cross your path once more. Until then, the Cheydinhal sanctuary will continue to await your return."

"What will you say to Arquen?" Lauraine asked hesitantly. Lauraine wasn't too fond of Arquen. The Aldmer, although not Listener, seemed to be the next in command. All the other speakers obeyed any task Arquen set upon them.

"I have three days to come up with something. But remember sister, no other speaker may be as merciful." Lucien reminded her.

Lauraine smiled, but then her vision became obscured. She tumbled backwards, landing hard onto the bedroll. Pulling the object off her face, she noticed it was a pack. She looked up, but found the room was empty, the door closed. She enchanted herself, noticing the soft purple of a person moving swiftly out the door to Roxy Inn. Cautiously, she opened the pack, pulling out a cloak. The soft silk threaded through her fingers, causing her to smile. Unwillingly, she put it too the side, gasping when she saw what else lay in the pack.

Tears stung her eyes as she pulled out a small Amulet. Made purely from Gold Emeralds, it had silver threaded in the chain. The chain led down to the Amulet itself, gold with a obsidian centre. The obsidian held an enchantment; the wearer granted with a speed and luck attribute. She quickly tied the amulet around her neck, fingers trailing down the chain and clasping the jewel in her hand. Everything else in the pack was her normal equipment: Glass Longsword, Mythrill Shield, Quilted Doublet, Leather Greaves and Leather boots.

Placing the Amulet of Kings into the pack, she glimpsed everything else in the pack. Her normal alchemy equipment, with numerous healing potions and the odd water breathing/walking stuff. She had no need for petty scrolls, as Lauraine was quiet adept in the art of Destruction, Alteration and Conjuration. Abruptly, she changed into the clothes provided, absent mindedly touching the amulet around her neck as she remembered the day she was given it.

* * *

I stood out on the balcony, the warm breeze tickling my skin softly and comforting me. Yes, _comforting_ me. In my past few years on Tamriel, I have turned soft. I went from the hard unmovable stone in the mountainside, to the soft yet strong Taproot. All because of that damned boy and the life he made others give me. Well, he didn't make my 'parents' take me in. They just happened to want a child older than five, yet younger than twelve, and I came along. Helped each other out in a way. However, at this very moment in time, I despised them. Both. Imperials may they be, they still forced me into this dress and shoved me outside to the balcony whilst they set everything up. Another party was getting set up. I sometimes wonder if they use me as an excuse for parties.

My first year with them, they held a party. My tenth birthday, another party. My twelfth birthday, another god damn party in that stuffy home. And now, my fourteenth birthday (in this body, mentally, I'm actually about twenty) they use as a excuse to set up another boring party, with boring people. I swear, my brain deteriorates slowly every single one of said party's.

I sighed heavily, leaning against the dark wood that served as a railing, examining the dress I was currently in. It was a bit low cut for my liking, but the gold trimmings standing out like gems against the black fabric gave me the feeling of prettiness. A pathetic feeling, I know. But even with the beautiful lacing and gold trimmings, I still felt slightly self conscious whilst wearing it. It was by far the most mature item of clothing they had let me wear, and I wasn't about to ruin this spectacular dress.

My hair was perched on the top of my head, most of it tucked up into a neat bun, with a few lose curls cascading down my back and stopping just above my waist. The blonde shone in the faint rays of the setting sun, the golden colour rivalling the beauty of a fountain of pure gold. My 'mother' had insisted I kept a few curls loose, to hide my 'birthmark' that marked my skin in between my shoulder blades. The mark itself was unique, a pale brown that stood out against my white as sheets skin.

A simple crescent moon, circling a simple star. A moon and star that was printed on my skin for a sole purpose: For me to never forget that I was the only mortal to live in Moonshadow and not be blinded by the beautiful gardens. The only mortal to live in the palace with Azura herself. She had pressed the mark onto me, a sickening burning feeling coursed through my body as it undid the natural paleness and remade a dark brown mark. Whilst I was wearing my current dress, it showed the top of this mark, and so my hair was styled the way it was.

Bored, I remained standing on the balcony until the first few guests arrived, my best friend being one of them. Unable to stand being bored as my mind deteriorated to that of a zombie, whilst my best friend would stand and laugh at me, I picked the lock on the door. Smiling as I heard the familiar click of the tumblers locking into place, I pushed the door open, slipping through quietly; unseen by the house maid.

The maid had fallen asleep on the chair she was slumped on, obvious signs of tiredness written across her face. The bags under her eyes stood out the most.

Sneaking past her, my velvet shoes making no sound on the floorboards, I snuck out the bedroom, towards the staircase. High tailing it down the stairs, I almost fell in a crumpled heap on the floor. Instead, however, I fell into a crumpled heap on top of someone. Resisting the urge to splutter, I moved my head to the side whilst opening my eyes. Soft, dark brown hair clouded my vision, a few strands of said hair in my own mouth. Lifting my head up to remove the strands, I looked down at who was underneath me, stifling a laugh when I saw the smirking face of Martin inches from mine.

It took me a whole of thirty seconds to realize the position we happened to be in. Both of my arms placed on either side of his, my hands on the floor to keep me up, and stopping me from collapsing back onto him. Both his hands were placed on my hips, supporting my weight. Cutting short my stare, I raised an eyebrow at him, which he returned with a smart ass comment.

"Well,_ Lauraine_. I knew you were head over heels in love with me, but you don't have to be so straight forward about it!" His eyes glinted playfully, mirroring my raised eyebrow.

"Oh hush up! You're the one with your hands on my hips, groping me!" I smirked at my reply, until he returned it. I suddenly felt very worried. "What are you-" I couldn't finish my sentence, as he removed his hands from my hips, causing me to lose balance and fall back on top of him. Another face full of his hair.

"Like I said Lauraine, no need to be so straight forward about it." He spoke with a laugh in his voice, banishing any form of angry retort I may have had ready. Instead, I pulled my knee up sharply, 'accidentally' kneeing him in the groin.

"I'd watch that. It's going to hurt in the morning" Cursing, I placed both my arms onto the floor again, pushing myself up and purposely standing on him as I stood up straight.

Shocked, I came face to face with my 'mother'. Her eyebrow was raised, an evident smirk playing across her lips as she looked from me to Martin. I took an immediate step backwards, forgetting my friend was on the floor, and tripped back over onto him. He must have expected it, as his strong arms wrapped around my small waist as he cushioned my fall a second time.

"Why, you're just falling everywhere for me, aren't you?" He asked chuckling, pulling us both up and letting me go. I stumbled forwards, taking my place at the side of my 'mother'.

"Your point?" I hissed back at him, sure that my mother would back me up to some degree.

"Lauraine! That is no way for a lady to talk, and stop being so clumsy!" The dark haired imperial turned to me as she said this, a evil smile tugging at the corner of her lips.

"I- I Was. I- I swear- He ran into me!" Weak reply. Really weak.

"Excuse me? You were running down the staircase at high speed, not realizing that someone could actually be stood at the bottom about to make their way up!" His answer was playful, but I noticed that we were bickering like little kids.

"That is not the point! And anyway, why were you about to come upstairs?"

"I-I Um. I'm going to go to the party now." Mumbling, he dragged himself off towards the thick oak door that lead to the den. My mother watched as he slipped through the door, turning to me.

"I swear, one day you two are going to end up married" She laughed absent mindedly, but I started scowling. A wave of sickness overcame me as I remembered that my time here was almost up. I only had four more years here, before I would have no choice but to leave.

I'm not sure what, but something would happen to erase me from the minds of everyone. Or something like that. Thinking deeply, I couldn't believe that I had been here for six years already. I went from the human state of an eight year old, to fourteen. My best friend went from a annoying eleven year old, to an even more annoying and simple minded seventeen year old. In the coming months, he would be expected to find a wife, and I would need to find a new best friend when he was taken away from me and tied into the joys of matrimony.

Of course, I have no intentions of marrying. Why marry someone when in the coming years, that marriage would lie forgotten and I'd never be recognized by the husband. Not a joy I would imagine. Life is not a fairy tale, and so I couldn't possibly end up on the good side of life. I feel incredibly lonely whenever Martin is away to the Imperial City to collect supplies for his parents. What would I be like when I could no longer see him again?

* * *

I paced back and forth outside the den. I was beyond bored, and my brain was currently in it's 'Zombie' state. All I had to do was hobble around stiffly, and develop a sudden blood lust, and I'd fit right in with a dread zombie. Well, I suppose I'd also need to smell really bad, have a sickly green glow radiating from my skin, and also have said green glowing skin falling off in rotten clumps. But that's hardly the point.

Throwing my hands up in the air with frustration, I decided that I may as well go outside, seeing as I had done my part at the party, simply being there and saying 'Hello' was enough. The cool summer air hit me in relief, causing me to smile and thank Azura that I was no longer stuck in that stuffy home. I thought deeply for a moment, thinking of something interesting to do. Pulling up the rest of my golden hair into the bun, I heard footsteps behind me.

"Bored already Lauraine? And here I- What in the name of Akatosh is that?!" I froze in place, the pitiful feeling of dread overcoming me. You know, the feeling you get when someone tells you that a giant bug is on your back?

"Whatever it is, get it off!" I resisted screaming, and stood stock still.

"I don't think I can. It looks like it's...Burned Into your skin..." Realizing that the person was on about my 'birthmark', I spun around to face him. It was Martin, his eyes twinkling with interest.

"You idiot! I thought something was on my back then!-"

"Well there is, but-"

"It's a mark, idiot. I've had it my entire life. It's just the first time I've worn clothing that shows it." Rolling my eyes at him, I turned my back to him. "See? Marked, no way to get rid of it..."

"Mi- Mind if I see the whole of it?" He asked, hesitation trying to hide in his voice.

"Yeah, what ever." I stepped backwards once, close enough for him to pull down the back of my dress a few centimetres. His hand brushed my skin, sending a unexpected shiver down my spine.

"That, is unique. You sure that's just any old birthmark?" He asked me, spinning me around to face him.

"Yeah, normal as me."

"So it's very abnormal then?" A unfamiliar emotion flickered through his eyes, but he still grinned annoyingly.

"I swear, if you take the piss out of me one more time, I'll find a way to send you to Malacaths realm. And trust me, you won't like that" Muttering, I jumped slightly when both of his arms wrapped around my neck.

I froze in place, when I heard the metal clicking of a clasp being activated, a cold heavy item being placed over my chest. A sudden feeling of luckiness came over me, and I felt like I could do anything illegal without getting caught. I also felt lighter, like a cloud. Poor comparison, but you get the point. My hand moved to touch the Amulet that Martin had just placed around my neck.

"Wh-Wha- Why?" I stuttered. For the first time in my life I stuttered on a sentence unwillingly.

"Well, I needed to get you something for your birthday. And I felt like you could use a little more luck." He smirked as he said this, and for some strange reason, I had to fight to hold back tears.

"Th-thank you. I- I'm...thoroughly speechless." And truly, I was. This must have cost him over a thousand septims. Amulets that increase luck are hard to come by, and so are very expensive.

"I knew you would be. I expect the money in the morning." He winked jokingly, before dragging me back into the house.


	4. Let Us Dance

A/N: As usual, I don't own Oblivion, or any of its characters. Thanks to those that reviewed, and thanks to my beta, Emzy(TimexHasxGone). To the story! Also, sorry if it seems a bit widely spaced, my document manager is really screwing up, missing words out and such 0_o

**The Mortal Of Moonshadow: Chapter 4**

_Running away; It is something we do when faced with something we do not wish to see, do or relate to. Whether it is in fear, or purely to get away, it is considered weak amongst most human beings. So why, when humans such as ourselves, when we slag and hate those that run, do we run when we look into the face of death?_

_Fear. When we run into a minotaur in the forest, or a land dreugh on the roads, we run. As fast as our legs can take us, until our breath comes in ragged gasps as fear overtakes us and our mind pushes us forward. Why do we do this, when a simple good hard strike with a sword will kill whatever beast we run from?_

_When we do something that we regret, like murder, we run. Whilst we revel in our shame, we forget that our feet are taking us away from the place where we commited the crime. We may have said something so wrong, so unforgivable, that we have no choice but to run. Run away towards the horizon, never to look back._

_  
To escape from a harmless thing; The reason I myself ran away. Your past is harmless, yet you could still be running away from it in fear, just incase it ever catches up to you, suffocating and blinding you. I ran away to escape a fate I did not wish to see through. I would not have been able to stand there, in the middle of the streets of Kvatch, whilst the moonlight encircled me and wiped me from the memories of those whose hearts I failed to touch. I would not have been able to face the questions my friend would give me, I would not be able to tell him the answers. And so, I did the only thing I could.  
I ran away._

_

* * *

_

Eyes flickering open quickly, Martin drew in a sharp intake of breath, gasping, coughing and spluttering. His head throbbed, his throat burned, and his neck ached. A thin layer of sweat coated his body, and the rough, coarse bedsheets were doing nothing to help.

Rolling over under the sheets, he yawned tiredly. He immediatly knew that sleep would now be impossible; He was unwilling, and unable to drift back into the beautiful abyss of unconciousness.  
Martin had been feeling on edge lately; Something was making him prepared for the worst. He felt like something horrible and disastrous was about to happen, something that would twist and change the course of history. Rarely would he fall asleep at night, and also, knowing that he would face unrealistic dreams wasn't helping him: Dreams of a strong willed, talented young Breton girl who, by right, he should have attempted to forget about at least ten years ago.

But the dreams haunted him. Dreams where he would continue shouting after her, he would continue screaming her name until she turned around. She would not keep going, instead she would turn and run to him in a cliche scene of what could only be called fantasy. The reality, to Martin, was much more painful. He would sometimes sit and wonder why she left. Had it been because of him? Did she feel that their friendship was becoming too awkward, could she not stand the idea of becoming more than friends? Or was it because of another reason? Had she left because of matters too private to tell him? Had she decided that Kvatch just simply wasn't her home, and that she would do better in other cities?

Glimpsing her once or twice in the cities themselves had been a rare treat. To know she was well was enough to satisfy Martin. She must have realized that he saw her on numerous occassions during the first three months after she left. He knew this because after he glimpsed her the fourth time, shopping in Borbas Goods And Stores, she was - quite literally - wiped off the province. No one saw her again; he never saw her again.

His thoughts were wandering again, as they did many nights. Surely, a man of nearly thirty years of age should be able to get rid of a petty teenage love, and move on? Well, he certainly didn't. His musings often kept him awake deep into the hours of the coming dawn, causing him to yawn repeatedly during his services the next day.

Feeling incredibly jumpy, he decided that laying in his bed would do more harm than good, and changed into his priest robes. Since he was a priest, he no longer lived in the home of his parents, but instead lived in the chapel hall with the other priests and priestesses. Casting a feather spell at the door, he pushed it open with incredible ease, no creaks to be heard. Sneaking through the hall was easy, his slyness had increased dramatically during his teens. The main reason for that being, he had always been forced to sneak around with his friend.

Lauraine Bellamont, the girl who haunted his dreams, had been the one to help him get over the death of all his other friends, helped him with all his skills, Except lockpicking of course; _That_ was a skill for Lauraine to master alone.

Slipping through the door that lead to the chapel itself, Martin slowly ascended the stone steps that led to the altar, the red velvet strippings of fabric still in place from the earlier service. A few travelers wandered slowly around the nine smaller altars, tired and hoping for a blessing to aid them along the dusty roads that lead towards Anvil or Skingrad.

A low, vibrating rumble shook the church, causing Martin to spin around and look towards the church door. He stared at in for a few minutes, two more vibrations shaking the church like a mage would shake a staff.

Another vibration occured, this time much stronger and heart stopping than the last. The fearful sound of solid concrete shattering to pieces filled the air, accompanied by loud, earsplitting screams. Running quickly, Martin flung open the church doors, freezing in his tracks at the sight infront of him.

Fire. Fire was everywhere. Houses were ablaze,_ people_ were ablaze, with their clothes catching fire as they attempted to run away from fireballs that were being thrown at them from every direction. Snapping his head towards the source of the fireballs, his head throbbed painfully at the sight of a scamp. Annoying as they were, they could also be deadly. Fireball throwing little fuckers. Martin never had patience for them when he experimented with Daedra in his teenage years. He winced as he saw a civilian run from one, fire catching his clothes and burning him alive as he ran faster.

Slowly turning his head, he gasped loudly at the sight of the city walls. Crumbled and broken, they were useless to defend the city. One massive, sickening and _highly_ unwelcome Oblivion gate stood at the entrance to the city.

Shaking his head, he knew that the civilians running towards the gate would only get themselves killed. So he did what he thought was the most logical thing to do in such a situation.

Yelling loudly, he motioned to the few standing civilians to enter the chapel, knowing full well they would be safe inside.

As the daedra came closer towards the chapel doors, Martin sighed heavily as he forced himself to slam the doors shut, trying to ignore the pitiful screams of the civilians that didn't make it. Kvatch was destroyed, and the shock of that realization dawned upon him just as quickly as it left. His world had just crumbled, his town beseiged and swarming with daedra.

* * *

Lauraine blinked twice in shock. Staring at the old man infront of her, she blinked slowly once more; She felt slightly numb, and the ringing of a familiar name echoed in her ears. Only two days ago she had the chance to glimpse his face once more, as he was escorted out of the chapel in Kvatch.

She had approached the city of Kvatch on her way to Chorrol, and her heart stopped beating for several moments when she caught site of the Great Oblivion gate. Dread took over her when she talked to an argonian, snapping and hissing at her for answers.

Furiously, she asked what had become of the city, her gag reflex kicking in when the female lizard told her sadly that nearly all the townsfolk had perished. Fear and remorse threaded through her body when she ran to the guard barricade at the top of the hill, once again asking about the town. But this time, she had asked about him. Most of the fear left when the guard had told her quickly that Brother Martin had managed to help a few people into the chapel, and that he was probably alive.

And then, willingly, she stepped into the great gate itself. After all, no one was going to hurt, kill or endanger her friend, not while she was still breathing. Swiftly and quickly, she had ran quickly past most of the daedra, too pissed off to bother killing them. When she had exited that hell gate however, she did not linger behind; instead she threw her hood up, mounted her horse and left swiftly for Weynon Priory.  
And that brought her to her current position.

Standing stock still in front of the Grandmaster of the Blades, her mind was finding it hard to register exactly what he had just told her. The white haired old man, sat in monks robes, casually told her that her old best friend was the _illegitimate son of the goddamn Emperor_ as if it was the most natural thing in the world.

"I-I'm sorry. Could you repeat that?" Still stunned, she asked the question slowly. Jauffre looked up from his book at her; lightly fingering the corner of a page.

"His name is Martin. You will find him in the chapel of Akatosh at Kvatch. Yes, Kvatch. The city where you previously closed a Oblivion gate. I believe the attack was purely to endanger Martin, possibly by the same assassins that murdered Emperor Uriel. You must find him." Jauffre went back to his book, his eyes scanning the page.

"So, are you sure that there is only one Martin in Kvatch? Is it not possible that there could be two brother Martins?"

"_By the Nine Divines woman_!" he snapped, slamming his book onto the table. "I have told you all you need to know! Brother Martin, is the only citizen in Kvatch by that name!" He glared at her, locking eyes and noticing the smallest bit of fear reflected in them.

"Calm it old man!" It was her turn to huff. Slamming both her hands onto the table, she gave Jauffre a glare that would send liches running for the hills. "Forgive me if I needed a little reassurance. Forgive me if I wanted nothing more than to escape my past, and then to have the people in it thrown right back at me! Forgive me, if I, a simple breton female, tried as hard as I could to get away from Martin himself, only to have the goddamn dead emperor force me to go back to him! You think I can just walk up to him, show my face and say: 'Hey, it's me. I know I betrayed your trust, and your loyalty and love, but you're the next emperor, and I'm afraid you need to come with me!?" Lauraine snapped.

She spoke without thinking, suddenly finding herself ridiculously tongue-tied when Jauffre raised an eyebrow delicately.

"Ma'am, It is not I that needs to calm, nor you. But I advise you find a way to control your outbursts, should you desperatly not wish to reveal yourself to Martin." Cautiously, he patted her arm over the table, smiled weakly, and motioned for her to leave.

Spinning on her heel, Lauraine stormed down the priory stairs; cloak flapping around her ankles as she jumped the last few steps, making sure to shut the door as hard as physically possible behind her. As the rain fell from the sky onto her shoulders, she mounted her horse, a single tear leaking from her eye and mixing with the pure rain as she remembered a happy memory.

* * *

I stared out of the window, bored to a pulp. The rain fell heavily, soaking the streets, causing them to glow beautifully in the midday sun. I always loved the rain. It had the ability to wash away my problems, cleansing me of my regrets and letting them flow away from me.

Currently, I was sat in a chair next to the window, in an Inn in Skingrad. The two sisters lodge to be precise. Martin was sat in the chair opposite me, smirking at my frustrated sighs that escaped my lips every few minutes.

Deciding that staring out into the rain would only depress me further, I moved to lay on the huge double bed in the middle of the room. Curling up into a ball, I stared at the three worn out packs that sat on the bench in the corner of the room. The one to the left, was the main reason we were even here. We were both sent to the Imperial City to get suppplies for our parents, unfortunatley, the shops in Kvatch did not sell the items we needed.

On our way back from the Imperial City, a storm cloud thundered overhead, and Martin forced us both into the nearest city to stay the night. The middle pack was my own. Full to the brim with my usual equipment: Alchemy utensils, potions, keys and clothing. My Elven longsword layed on the floor in front, shining in the weak daylight. Looking over at the third pack, I noticed it was unusually packed for Martins usual attire. It bulged slightly, the top of a dark rose peeking out.

My heart entered my mouth as I realized what Martin had been carrying with him the entire time. Slowly picking myself up of the bed, I silently seethed as I got closer to it, feeling Martins eyes on my back. Sharply, I pulled the Sanguine Rose from the pack, turning on Martin. I was seeing red, furious that my friend could be so stupid.

"You! Why the hell do you have this!?" Calmly, he stood up, walking towards me. His hand reached out to take it from me, but I pulled it back.

"Look, me and some of the other guild mages, we came across it, and-"

"Do you have any idea what it does?!" I shrieked. This was the first time in my life my voice had reached such a level, and I was ultimatley pissed off.

"Well, you see. The idea of experimenting with it, is because we don't know. But we are getting results! And besides, do you even know what it does?" He was getting angry now, I could see that. Oh how I was _dying_ to answer that question honestly.

_Yes Martin, I do know what it does. I used to play with that weapon as a child, using it on the guards at the Palace. That little bastard of a weapon causes destruction and death with every use, and after all, since it was made by Sanguine himself, shouldn't you know that?! Hm? You know, the kind of destruction that is so annoying and murderous that it makes you laugh manically?_

"No. No I don't know what it does. But it- it looks dangerous." I felt an insane urge to snap the staff in half, that urge strengthening when I remembered what every Sanguine worshiper would do in celebration. However, I lost the chance to do so when it was pulled roughly from my hands.

"Now, can you calm down?"

"You...You haven't, have you? You have?" I asked, almost stuttering.

Physically, I was starting to feel sick. If Martin had been celebrating the way other Sanguine worshipers did, then I really would be ill. I always found it disgusting, making love to each other to celebrate the goddamn daedra talking to you.

Along with the feeling of sickness, came a sudden pang of jealousy, hitting me sharply like one would hit another with a warhammer. Looking up at him, ( I am ridiculously small, even for a Breton. I'm about two inches taller than a Bosmer) I waited for an answer. He had a look of confusion on his face, before it was rewritten with one of shock. He semi-glared at me, semi-smirked.

"Jelous?" He answered cockilly. No longer being able to stand the boredness, annoyance and anger that came with no answers, I pushed him against the far wall. Unsheathing his dagger, I held it tight against his throat.

"Don't play games with me!" Refraining the sudden laughter that came over me at the look on his face, his eyes bored into mine. He knew I wasn't going to hurt him, but the look in his eyes told me that although he knew this, he still wasn't taking any chances of having his tendons severed.

"No, I haven't. And even if I had, what would you do about it? Why do you always have to stick to the rules?" Hissing, he yanked the dagger from my grip, forcing me down into a chair. I suddenly felt terrible, disgusted at myself for attacking Martin like that.

"I-I'm sorry. I don't know why I did that. " I looked down, fighting tears that formed.

I shouldn't really be crying. I never cried. Only once, and that was when some form of disease had taken over my best friends life. I had honestly thought he was going to die, and so had cried for two reasons.

Firstly, I cried because I had broke one of my own promises. I had become attached. I'd become attached to someone, and that was something I couldn't forgive. Secondly, I realized that I loved Martin. No reason to cry, right? Well, when I realized I loved him, and thought I was going to lose him, I spent weeks on edge. I practised and performed every restoration spell in the book, before I was forced to go to the Arcane university, literally begging them to let me use their spell making alters.

But moving past that. Martin kneeled next to me, pulling me into a one armed hug.

"No need to be sorry, you're just too protective over me. You know, since you love me so much." Winking, he stood up slowly, pulling me up off the chair. "So, what do you want to do?" Thinking about the question, I tried to think of something that would let me have fun, and ultimatley piss my parents off. Eventually, I came to an idea. Looking out the window at the softly falling raindrops, I smiled.

"I want to dance."

"You sure? There's not much space here, we'd be stumbling every-"

"Not here. Out there..."

"In the hallway?"

"In the rain"

"Are you _insane?!"_

The question was one that didn't need to be answered. During our friendship, we had done many crazy things, all resulting in a three week isolation from the other. I smirked at the memories. Pulling my leather boots on over my greaves, I nodded slowly at him. His lips tilted upwards with a sweet, heart warming smile. Much better than the cocky, smart ass smile he wore nearly all the time.

Dragging him out the door, I pulled him down the stairs, exiting the Two Sisters Lodge via the second floor. This led us onto the cobbled street, the rain pounding down softly on us both.  
Running through the streets, we stopped outside the Chapel of Julianos.

Smiling, he wrapped one arm around my waist, the other taking hold of my hand. Placing one arm around his neck, I laughed like a little girl with her first toy, letting my head drop onto his shoulder.

And then we danced, my hand held tightly in his as the warm embrace of his body drew me even closer; the rain was falling, along with the temperature. He started laughing too, it was contagious, and had me laughing along with him. As we both span, doing the waltz like two moronic children with nothing better to do, I felt free; Like my spirit had finally been let out of a small container deep within Moonshadow, Like I had finally been released from this cage that my adopted parents have locked me in. And Now I was free. Free of all the worries my life held.

With the sun shining upon my skin, along with the small shimmering drops of rain, everything glimmered and shone like one magnificent diamond.

Yes, perhaps we were acting childish. Screwing up the dance routine we spent years trying to perfect in the ballrooms of my parents home was not something most would do, especially not at the ages of sixteen and nineteen. But to a certain extent, we both deserved this entire moment together. I was thriving on this moment, and I will perhaps thrive on it as a memory; moments like these cannot last forever. Infact, they are over as quick as the storm arrives, in the blink of an eye.

Or in my case, the blink of a very wet, sparkling - but very joy filled - eye. Reflecting the sight of the one I loved.

My heart thudded painfully as I remembered one very important thing; the curse that Azura had placed upon me would ultimatley lead to wipe out. I wouldn't be able to survive if Martin ever forgot about me, but I will deal with that when the time comes. For now, I will dance in the rain, dance quickly and childishly, letting all my burdens get washed away whilst I listen to the soft thudding heartbeat of my best friend.

* * *

Lauraine jumped off her horse, landing gracefully on the barren land at the bottom of the road to Kvatch. She had played the memory of dancing in the rain over and over in her mind, her stomach fluttering madly as she realized that she would be speaking to Martin again in just a few minutes.

"Stay here girl" Patting her black horse gently, she fastened the ties on her cloak, pulling the hood up. Her only visible features were her eyes, the rest hidden within the darkness that the hood provided. Fingering the handle of her Elven Longsword, she slowly made her way up the dusty road, stringing together words that she could say.

All too soon she reached the campsite, charred and blackened tree's visible over the hill. A thick scent of burning hung in the air, the sickening smell of burnt flesh mixing in with the smoky scent. Lauraines stomach was threatening to show her her shepherds pie, and so she sped her walk up. Peering into a few tents, she noticed all contained the survivors, all the survivors except Martin. Kicking the dirt in anger, she swore very loudly.

The clouds overhead were clearing, the low light of sunset taking over. The sun was setting melachonly over the hill, a perfect picture scene, had the ruined smoking city of Kvatch not stood next to it. Hissing, Lauraine kicked the dirt again, sending dirt flying mercilessly at the fire, extinguishing it with a low 'Hiss'.

"Bloody great! I spent half a day on horseback to get here, walk all the way up the goddamn hill and find out he's not here! And now it's nightfall. Isn't this just perfect!" She yelled up at the skies, as if daring the Gods to do something else. As if she was daring them to do something to piss her off further. Jumping at a warm hand on her shoulder, she spun around, stiffling a gasp.

Looking straight into the face of Martin, many changes were noticeable. His eyes no longer held their brightness; a brightness Lauraine always looked forward to seeing every day. A brightness that cheered her up when she felt down, that caused her heart to flutter wildly when she would see another emotion hidden behind it. The brightness that helped his smile light up the town had been extinguished; Dulled and dissipated as the years wore on.

He had clear frown lines across his forehead, another change that was unexpected. Frown lines didn't exist when Lauraine lived in the town, for every moment was cherished, every moment a moment of laughter and joy.

"Is there something I can help you with?" His voice cut across her thoughts, causing her to forget every word she had planned on saying. Finding herself tongue-tied once more, she nodded, the action only noticable by the movement of her hood. Making sure that her face was still concealed, she pulled him away from the tents and out of earshot of any stray citizens.

"Yes, there is something you can help me with. Infact, it's not me you'll be helping, but other people will benefit from this." The words flowed from her mouth, Arcane symbols coming with them. After all, he may have the need to be charmed and pursuaded. His eyebrows raised at her, lips forming a straight line.

"Explain..."

"Well, not to pressure you or anything. But we need your help, and if you don't help us, alot of people will kick the bucket."

"You think I can help? Look around you. What good is a priest when a city is burned to the ground? If this is part of a divine plan, I want nothing to do with it." Muttering bitterly, he turned to leave, but Lauraine kept a hard grip on his arm.

"Oh no you don't. You see, whether you like it or not, you have to come with me. At least to hear this old man out. You see, you are Uriel Septims son."

"You think the Emperor is my father? You have the wrong man, my father was a farmer-"

"A farmer who you secretly thought was so different to you in looks and personality that you swore there was no way for you to be related. Now move" Lauraine cursed inwardly when she realized what she had just said. She wasn't supposed to know that. Well, she was, but Martin would know that she was the same woman who served as his best friend for ten years. Which would lead to awkward delays.

How do you know that?" He snapped angrily at her, pulling his arm out of her grip. "No one knows that. Unless-"

"Just come with me. Please, don't make this more difficult than it has to be. I seriously will just knock you out..." Not one to make empty threats, she honestly would knock him out, regardless of how much it would hurt her to do so.

"You destroyed the Oblivion gate. They say you gave them hope. Yes, I'll come with you to speak to this man. For your sake, it had better be worth it. Son of the Emperor..." He spat the last part of the scentence bitterly, casting one last look at the smoking remains of Kvatch. Lauraine placed her hand on his shoulder, attempting to tell him that she felt the same grief at the towns devastating destruction.

"All those people..." Lauraine muttered quietly, hoping to god that her 'parents' were not included in those that were dead.

"Do I know you? I feel a sense of familiarity around you, and your vo-"

"Martin?"

"Yes?"

"Shut up, and move"


	5. You Don't Need Me

A/N: As usual,, I don't own Oblivion or any of its characters, only Lauraine Bellamont....

Thanks to my Beta TimexHasxGone,, and to those that reviewed. Now, to the story!

**The Mortal Of Moonshadow: Chapter 5**

_Lies. Like I said before, start one lie, and a whole string follows; creating the intricate thread of lace that reflects a life of lies. My web had already been woven. It hung before my very eyes, reminding me how many lies left before the web would be finished, before there was no turning back._

_  
It smirked and laughed at me, brutally reminding me that my clock was ticking. No matter how much I didn't want to, I had no choice but to finish the web. I single handedly connected that final thread. Strung it up from one side to the other, glueing it together and making sure it stuck. I made sure that once I did that, I could no longer turn back. Less than two hours later, I regretted that action, regretted making the lie. But it was too late for me._

_  
The lie I made was simple. I told my parents I would see them in the morning, and left for bed. My pack was sitting comfortabley underneath my bed, all my important belongings had been in it. I connected the thread, the placement of my lips on both my parents cheeks the seal. _

_  
The finished web smiled manically at me, laughing amusedly at my defeat. It mocked me when the only sound I could hear was the voice of a friend. A friend who called after me for ages as the night storm wore on._

_  
The web took no pity on me when I laid on the cold, unfamiliar bedsheets of the west weald inn the very same night. I had dimly remembered the saying 'Without honesty, one can never live a good life.'_

_  
I was a spider, and I had completed the web of lace. I sat comfortably upon it for many years, regret always nagging at the back of my mind. But now, exactly 7 years to the day of my departure, 7 years to the day I completed the web, my web was unspinninng. Pluck a string and it all unravels. My lies were becoming undone, soon to be revealed._

_In a bad sense, all my secrets would be revealed to people. People would know that I was not a innocent naive young girl whose earliest memory was waking up in a burned out alchemist shop._

_In a good sense, I could, quite literally, relive my past. Correct all the wrongs. It's hard to explain, but my life would become easier. For the first time amongst mortals, a strong thread was about to be undone._

* * *

I sighed in annoyance, the heavy weight of my pack creating a loud banging noise on the wooden floor. It's the thirteenth of Heartfire, approximatley ten in the evening. In exactly two hours, the curse upon my body will take its toll, the people in this town forgetting my very name and face. In a way, it saddened me to leave after ten years of living here. Most of my best memories resided inside these walls, and they will forever stay here. Picking the pack up slowly, I slung it over my shoulder: It weighed heavily on my shoulder; nothing a simple alteration spell couldn't take care of.

I cast chameleon, the soft glow of the performed spell bouncing off the walls of my room, lighting up my face in the moments before it blended in with the dresser and window. Grimly, I gripped the handle of my door, taking one last look at the room I had slept in for exactly ten years. Neatly, the bed was as it always was, uncreased and comfy. The candle that lay beside my bed for late night reading was extuinguished, the wick having been burned down to the bottom. Forcing myself to turn away, I stealthily and quickly left the house, slipping out into the darkness of the night.

So far, my plan had been going well. All I had to do was get out of Kvatch, make my way towards Skingrad, and stay in one of the Inns. Falanu Hlaalu, a pretty dark elf who resided in the city, would be my main source of alchemy supplies. I'd shop there quickly, getting all I needed, before leaving for the open road. I would no longer be able to get free supplies, as she would probably forget me too. She used to always give me free supplies. The main reason for this is because I happened to come across her walking in the graveyard one night whilst staying in Skingrad. Let me just say this: Finding out my friend was a necrophilliac, I could deal with. But finding out whilst catching her in the act, was not something I enjoyed. It was something that I found increasingly difficult to erase from the depths of my mind. So to stop me screaming and running, she sent me regular alchemy supplies.

So, like I said, it was going well so far. Leave Kvatch, stay in Skingrad, eventually move on from life. Of course, me being me, there is sure to be some complication with my plan. And sure enough, I bumped into that complication mere minutes after escaping the house.  
I didn't see the point in keeping my chameleon up, as the dark colour of my cloak would help me in the shadows anyway. And I didn't need to be invisible when passing the guards, there wasn't really a point to that either. I walked past another figure, freezing in my tracks when I recognised him. I sensed him stop too, then felt him moving closer to me.

"Lauraine, what are you doing out this late?"

"I could say the same to you..." I answered thickly, my heart thudding in my chest painfully. I had no idea what I was going to say. It would take him all of thirty seconds to realize what I was doing, and then everything would just fall down hill from there. A low rumble of thunder echoed in the distance, and small, glistening raindrops fell from the sky onto my hood.

"It's raining, Lauraine, you really should get inside. Besides, I was on my way to see you anyway, I need to ask you something..." His hands were fumbled together, an aura of nervousness radiating off him and hitting me harshly like a hammer. My heart was sinking; I realized what he wanted to ask me, and I didn't want to risk the numb feeling of heartbreak as I would be forced to say no to the thing I want most.  
Tears stung the corners of my eyes bitterly, hanging on edge and threatening to fall freely down my face. But I wouldn't let them.

"No, Martin. I'm sorry...But..." I couldn't say anything else, but instead leaned up to kiss him lightly on his lips. A small, innocent kiss, that managed to include all my feelings. Actions speak louder than words, and I had no way to tell him I was leaving. Not without bursting into pitiful fits of tears myself.

"Are- you're not- You can't be..." His eyes were begging me to shake my head, to tell him I was only joking. But my own eyes reflected the truth. I was leaving, and that was that. My mind was made up, and it takes alot to change it. I simply nodded my head, keeping my mouth closed to keep a heart tearing sob at bay.

"No, Lauraine...Please... You can't..."

"I-I am. Goodbye Martin...I loved you, but it's best you leave me _alone_" I muttered the last part quietly, but even then I was sure he heard it.  
I spun swiftly on my heel, running as fast as I could towards the towns main gate. My legs ached with the speed at which I was running, my lungs searing. I was holding my breath, and I wasn't sure why. All I knew was I had to get out of the town, quickly. I couldn't let Martin catch up with me.

But although my own speed was beyond that of an average seventeen year old female, no matter how many charms I should place upon myself, it was no match to Martins. He caught up with me just outside the town gate, grabbing my upper arm. A desperate last attempt at keeping me here. Hissing in anger, I spun around, sending him one of my most deadliest glares.

"Lauraine, please...Don't. Stay, please-"

"No Martin! Let me go!" I yanked my arm from his grip, stepping backwards a few steps. It was raining now, the rain thudding on my numb shoulders.

"I can't! I need you-"

"No you don't need me! The simple fact is that you don't need me, and maybe you don't want to let me go. But that doesn't mean you cant! Martin, please, let me go." My heart was thudding loudly against my chest, sweat lined my brow as I desperatley attempted to get the message across. I needed to leave, and I needed to leave _now._

_  
_I cast him a apolegetic look, the last look I could ever give him. My body was dully aching with numbness, fighting against me. My own mind was telling me to turn around, to stay in Kvatch and take what I have earned. My own body screamed for the warmth of his embrace, sourly attempting to make me stay. But my own strong will forced me to move away from him.

I spun swiftly on my heel, ignoring the salty tears that had started to drip down my face; to mix with the pure sweet raindrops. Walking forwards, I made my way down the road, the mud making no impact on me. The only thing I could see in my mind was his face, the heart breaking look of sorrow, anger, betrayal and despair. And the clear look of one broken heart. A heart I had unknowingly taken; A heart I am knowingly shattering. All it would take to fix it, would be to turn around now, to stay in this godforsaken town, stay amongst those who I called family. Those who would not know who I was. All except him.

Biting my lip, I tasted the copper that was my blood; a result of biting my lip too hard. It was not the crackling of the lightening I could hear, nor was it the loud fierce roar of the thunder. No, it was the broken voice that called after me. The voice that kept shouting my name until I was too far out of sight. The voice that kept shouting, even as the owners throat dried, and his head spun.

My tears flowed from my eyes, clouding most of my eyesight. They relentlessly dripped off my face, proving to me that maybe, just maybe, I did have the ability to regret an action. But I pressed onwards, making my way down the spiral road that lead to the Gold Road. I cast one last look up at the tall, proud walls of Kvatch; only just visible at the top of the hill that it stood on.

* * *

"What is your name?" The question came freely, curiously. Yet it hit Lauraine like a wave of shock. How the hell was she supposed to answer that? She glanced at the man beside her, eyebrow raised. Of course, he wouldn't be able to see it, but that was not the point. Clicking her tongue, she thought for a very quick moment, before looking forward.

"Hero of Kvatch too informal for you?" Whilst she asked the question, she searched her mind for a suitable name. She couldn't give her real name, as he would know straight away it was her. And that, she mused, was completeley against the point of 'secrecy'.

"No, I just wish to know the name of the person who is dragging me along to Chorrol." He glanced back over towards her, the only visible facial feature under her hood was her eyes. But even they were concealed to a high degree. A soft glint was visible, shining brightly in the moonlight.

Lauraine looked up at him, making sure her hood was still in place. He sat awkwardly on her horse, obviously not wishing to sit on her whilst Lauraine walked. They had argued about it for several minutes at the bottom of a road. He had insisted that she rode, whilst he walked. Lauraine had insisted that he rode, and she would follow at the same pace as her horse. It had taken a colourful selection of words and threats, a summoned skeleton guardian, and the eventual appearence of Goldbrand to get him to ride Velina. Velina herself had no objections, but refused to move until Lauraine had patted the horse gently on her black fur.

"I am not _dragging _you. I am ordering you to. Emperor be damned, I'm getting you there safely."

"You still haven't told me your name-" Lauraine rolled her eyes at his newfound stubborness, cutting in front of him.

"My name is Laura. Laura Bellkin." She fingered the end of her longsword nervously, hoping to the gods that he wouldn't realize that 'Laura' was simply a shortened version of Lauraine. He need only make the connection, and he would put the name with her voice. Add a face, realize that the 'Hero of Kvatch', and the female taking him to Chorrol was the same girl he grew up with.

He sighed heavily, adjusting his position on Velina. He himself was awfully confused. His town had just been burned to the ground, mere hours after the Emperor had been assassinated. After he spent a day in the Chapel of Akatosh, some female, along with the town guard, appeared. They told him that it was safe to leave, and that the campsite outside was big enough for everyone to go to.

A day later, he see's the woman again. She told him that he was the son of the Emperor. For some strange reason, he believed her. Not because he always thought of himself as superior to others, but because something in the womans voice captivated him. It had him yearning for information, yet had the ability to take hold of him and cause him to believe her every word. Yet something about her bothered him. She seemed hauntingly familiar, yet Martin just couldn't place where. Her voice seemed most familiar, and he connected it to that of Lauraine Bellamont.

But thinking of her was too painful at the moment, even if it had been seven years. He had once been told by a fellow priest, that if you ever loved someone, then a part of you will always cling to them. To Martin, it seemed like _all _of him was still clinging to her, wherever she may be. He looked back down at Lauraine.

"So, Laura. How old are you?" The question came out without control. Lauraine faked a gasp, her hand clutching her heart.

"My oh my. To Akatosh with you! One must _never_ ask a lady her age!" A soft giggle escaped her lips, causing a unexpected smile to tug at the edges of Martins mouth.

"Not in the basis of rules, no. But why can you not tell me?"

"My friend, I did not say I couldn't tell you. I merely said it was rude to ask a lady her age." Smiling, despite the fact that it was hidden, she answered truthfully. "I am twenty-four years of age. You?" She asked the question to keep up the act, already knowing his age.

"Twenty-seven. But as the years have passed, the absence of laughter has caused me to look much older than I am. Although you wouldn't guess it, I used to be quite daring when I was a young man. Many acts got me locked in a prison cell for the night with a close friend. A day I spent without laughter, would be a day when we were both isolated from the other. And then..."

"And then what?" Lauraine pressed onwards, wishing to know what had happened in the days after her leave.

"I experimented with some form of Daedra. Many of my friends had died. My closest friend, she had warned me, knowing that the outcome would not be a good one. We had gotten in over our heads, and only I had got out. But she, she hadn't been with us, disgusted at our research and experiments. I suppose she took pity on me, her disgust vanishing into nothingness at the death of my friends. Had she been one of my friends to die, I think most of me would have died then with her. She stayed for another two years. And then she left. I had never expected it. " Lauraine had to force back tears, having heard how he felt about their friendship, and also at hearing the heartbreak that cut through his already broken voice. Heartbreak that should have left seven years ago, on the night of her departure.

Absent mindedly, she patted his shoulder, her arm reaching high above her to do so. She felt terribly guilty, for a reason she could not answer. Her mind spun causing her to feel dizzy. Hours later, they were making their way up the muddy road to Chorrol. Passing Odiil Farm, she sidetracked to pick up a few ingredients for her Alchemy, shoving them into her back and making her way back to Velina and Martin.  
Martin jumped off the horse as Lauraine came back over, patting her muzzle.

"Good girl. Laura, what should we do with-" He was cut off by a exhausted, panic striken voice.

"Run! The priory is under attack!" Eronor flailed his arms above his head wildly as he ran down the path.

"Whoa whoa whoa! Hold on!" Lauraine gripped the dunmers upper arm, preventing him from running away further.

"I was in the stables, tending to the horses, and I heard voices. I looked around, and saw Prior Maborel talking to some people. They looked liked ordinary travellers. But suddenly weapons appeared in their hands and they struck the Prior down before he could move! I'm getting out of here!" Eronor pulled his arm from her grip, running away from the priory and down the road.

Lauraine rolled her eyes at the sound of a sword being drawn; switching from her Elven blade to Goldbrand, she drew the powerful weapon quickly, striking it down hard upon an assassin that made his way towards her and Martin. She smiled twistedly as his body set alight, the flames covering him as he screamed. The last words echoing from his mouth: 'Paradise, awaits me'. Having no time to ponder on stupid riddles, she looked over at Martin, who had his dagger drawn. His eyes were focused on the assassin that Lauraine had just killed, his clothes charred and his skin burned.

"You. _Stay put. _It does not do us any good should you die. So just stay here..." She hissed the words quickly, yet loud enough for him to hear.

Several minutes later found Lauraine locked in a deadly sword fight with another assassin. Their swords clashed against each other, both inflicting wounds upon the other. Both moved swiftly and gracefully. Both moved and fought with unexpected skill. Lauraine blocked a hit that the assassin sent her way. Seeing an opening, Lauraine quickly aimed and swung. Her sword burned through the metal armor on the assassins body, setting her alight from the inside. Caging her with the flames. Eyes blazing furiously, the assassin kept on going, cutting through Lauraines cloak at the arm. The fabric fell to the floor, leaving her arm bare. Lauraine herself became distracted for just a moment, but a moment too long.

The hilt of the Assassins glass longsword dove for her abdomen, Lauraines feeble and quick attempt to deflect the hit coming too late. Staggering backwards, strings of curses flowed through her lips. She prepared for a final blow, eye cracking open when it failed to come. Instead, the woman had electricity crackling throughout her body; well, what was left of it. Brother Piner and Martin both stood behind the now dead assassin: Brother Piners Claymore covered in blood, Martins left arm out.

One had, by the looks of it, beheaded the Assassin. The other had seemed to cast the spell that held her still. Blood flowed through the wound on Lauraines abdomen, the thick coppery smell reaching her nostrils and causing her to simultaniously gag. But the time for healing would come later, now she had to help get rid of the assassins.

She smiled in appreciation at Martin and Brother Piner, removing her hand from her injured abdomen. Martin moved forwards, but she held her hand out to stop him.

"I thought I told you to _stay!_ By the Nine Divines, no one listens to me anymore...Wheres Jauffre?" Her question was answered by a shout from the chapel. Running towards it with Brother Piner, she ignored the searing pain that revolved and stabbed at her abdomen.

"Your timing is impecible. You two get the ones on the right. I'll take this one" Jauffres voice cut through a moment of stunned silence. Snapping her head up, Lauraine deflected a blow that came from a shortsword. Clicking her tongue, she disposed of the assassin with anothers help. She turned to face the other, expecting it to be Brother Piner, or Jauffre. A low growl escaped her throat when she saw it was Martin.

"How many times do I have to tell you?! Get outside!" As she attempted to move him, she instead pulled him backwards against her, the sharp sides of a claymore smashing down and cutting the air where Martin stood half a second before.

Another swing was aimed blindly; Lauraine was forced to let her knees buckle and drop both her _and _Martin to the floor. At some point on the way down, she twisted herself to put Martin beneath her; should any more swings be randomly thrown, he would be protected to some degree by her own body.

Lauraine felt a strange sense of de ja vu the split second before she landed, her mind flashing back to a party when she turned fourteen. Lying in a crumpled heap on the floor, having run down a long staircase. Realizing a split second later that her hood was partially pulled back, she rolled off Martin to the side. A low thump of bones hitting concrete echoed in the air causing Lauraine to look up, Jauffre giving her the same look her mother had given, ten years ago.

Her main concern was putting her hood back into place, but doing so was proving difficult; sitting up seemed impossible, her stomach burned with pain from the wound. Jauffre did the task for her, pulling her hood back towards her face and covering it successfully. He helped both her and Martin up, before taking flight from the Chapel and running towards Weynon House.

Martin had helped her move from the Chapel to the house, letting her lean most of her weight on him. She was incredibly light, seeming to surprise him for a moment, until he realized that this woman was very agile. Weighing light would be a neccessity. Both looked up at the sound of running footsteps, Jauffres fearful face coming into view.

"The Amulet! The enemy has taken it!"

"What?! Are you shi-..._Those sons of b_-"

"Where do you think they have taken it?" Martin cut in front of Lauraine, preventing her from cursing even more.

"Y-your highness? I'm sorry, I have not taken time to acknowlede you..." Jauffre immediatly calmed, looking towards Lauraine. "I will not rest until Martin is safe. No where in Cyrodiil is safe from assassins, but there is a fortress deep in the mountains of Bruma. Cloud Ruler Temple! Take us there at once!"

Lauraine grumbled something intelligable, looking at Martin, then pointing at her horse. Martin shook his head, looking at her cloak. Parts of the dark fabric had turned blood red, damp and sticky from her blood.

"Your abd-"

"I don't care about that, thankyou very much. I notice it's there, because... Well, _Its on my friken stomach! _So stop being a gentleman, and back your ass onto that horse!" Hissing angrily, she pointed to her horse once more. Martin held his arms up, walking backwards and mounting the horse. "Good little emperor boy. Now lets move..." Cursing to herself silently, she half ran, half walked the path, starting on their way to Cloud Ruler Temple.


	6. Close Calls

A/N: I don't own Oblivion or any of its characters. Thanks to my Beta: TimexHasxGone....Now to the story!

**The Mortal Of Moonshadow: Chapter 6**

_A hero. Something we all want. We all, whether it is subconsciously or consciously, want that knight in shining armour. The Knight that will jump through a deadly fire, swim the roughest sea, or climb jagged and freeze-thawed mountains to save us from a fiery dragon or a deadly villain._

_  
But what exactly is a hero? Albeit, a knight is one thing, respected by the woman or man they save. But a hero is something different. Is a hero someone who saves a hell-of-a-lot of people, for their own personal gain? Someone who will fight millions of daedra, bandits or forest creatures, only because the outcome will benefit them the most?_

_  
Or is a hero someone who, selflessly runs into the fire, skin charred and burning, purely to save others? Someone who will do __**anything **__to save another; never caring if they die in the process?_

_  
I was labelled the 'Hero of Kvatch'. I had run into the darkest pits of hell, determined to close the living hell known as an oblivion gate. The citizens I had grown up with had viewed me as a different person, not knowing me. They labelled me a hero, having saved the lives of many. After all, the guard could not have held out for longer. They thought I had entered that gate purely to help them._

_  
But my reasons for saving them. Was it selfless? Even now, I do not know. Was my closure of that gate the reason I stand here now? The reason I stand at a high point in life? Does that gate have nothing to do with me sitting here in this chair, reflecting upon my life?_

_  
I closed that gate with only one face in my mind. The face of Martin Astiultus. Later to be known to me, and all of Tamriel, as Martin Septim. So, if I closed the gate to make sure that no one else could die, mainly Martin, was my act an act of selflessness? For some reason, I don't think so. Maybe, a part of me always knew I would end up here. Maybe it didn't._

_And I guess we'll never know._

* * *

Pale and dry. That was the only word suitable to describe the corpse in front of me. I sheathed my blade silently, the soft sound of lips smacking catching my attention.

"Was it necessary that you _drained _him of his blood?" I felt disgusted, desperately trying to ignore the drops of blood that had dried to the vampire's skin. His own skin was paper thin and pale, but the colour was slowly returning to his features, accentuating his cheekbones.

"It needs to look like a simple murder, my dear. And besides, I needed to feed."

"Well, I just slit his throat. It ain't going to look like a simple murder." I pointed out. The dead Bosmer lay across the bed, partially covered in his own blood. There would be more of the coppery stuff, had the vampire not dove on him and drained the rest of it from his twitching body.

"You worry too much dear. I think we should leave, quickly. I hear someone downstairs."

I nodded to the vampire, both of us sneaking through a hidden door and out of a balcony. We both jumped to the floor, my weight colliding with the ground and causing a loud thump. My cloak billowed around me, my un-gracefulness embarrassing me. The vampire landed next to me, no sound reverberating through the air. In fact, I had only known of his landing from the soft flapping of a cloak that came with a dark shadow.

My mind wandered, to a time when I too was graceful. When I had not a care in the world to weigh me down. Now, I was constantly checking over my shoulder, making sure that the person I wanted to follow me wasn't following me. It seemed I truly had lost him two months ago. It has been five months since I left Kvatch. The first thing I do? Get recruited by the dark brotherhood.

"Lauraine, hurry." My upper arm was gripped tightly; pulled towards the door to the abandoned house.

We both slid into the house, ignoring the scattered utensils and barrels on the two upper floors. For some strange reason, we always ran through the house. Perhaps it was to spend as little time as possible with the dirty scattered objects. We both halted outside the door, the soft red glow lighting our faces up, even under our hoods.

"What...Is the colour...of night?" No matter how many times I heard it, that voice would always freak me out. It always caused the hairs on my neck to rise, cause my blood to run cold. And that was saying something, seeing as I am a 'child of Sithis'

"Sanguine...My brother" We muttered the words at the same time, his deep voice contrasting against my high one. The door retracted into the wall, giving us entrance to the sanctuary.

"Welcome...Home..." I heard the door move closed behind me, the walls around it shaking slightly. Shaking my head, I looked over towards my 'brother', and my 'Sister'. My 'sister' was making her way over towards me, a toothy argonian smile stretched on her face.

"Brother! Sister! You have returned!"

"Well, we did leave about an hour ago..." I muttered under my breath. Ocheeva had sworn to me that my finished contract would be challenging, something that would make me and Vicente thirst for the kill. It was the exact opposite. Ocheeva smiled at me, choosing to ignore my comment.

"Well, I am now going to bestow upon you both the title of Eliminator. Take this key, it unlocks the well. May it grant you quick and easy access to the sanctuary. Now go and rest. Sithis knows you need it." She handed us both a key to the well, allowing us quicker access to the sanctuary.

Ten minutes later, I was biting my lip in frustration. I couldn't find my longsword, and I could swear I left it in my chest.

"Looking for this?" I spun around, Vicente Valtieri stood in the corner of the room, my longsword in his hand. I breathed in relief.

"Yeah, thanks Vicente." I moved forwards to take it, but he moved it out of my reach.

"You're not getting it. You're not leaving..."

"What would make you-"

"Oh give over. It's_ highly_ obvious. Your late night packing, jumping whenever someone talks about the size of your pack, eye twitching when someone goes near your chest. But, should you leave, I need ask this. Why?"

"I don't belong here Vicente. You of all people should know that..."

"Funnily enough, I was under the impression that you enjoyed living here..." He twirled my sword around lightly, its heavy weight showing no effect on him.

I rolled my eyes once more, walking past him with my pack on my shoulder. I made my way out of the sleeping quarters, trying my best to keep unwanted thoughts out of my head. As I stormed through the sanctuary, I saw the faces of my 'family' watching me. Vicente was keeping up with me, the others making no move to stop me.

"I don't belong here. Let me go Vicente"

"I'm making no move to stop you, but think about it."

"Think about what?!" I hissed at him. The vampire glared up at me, his red eyes flashing murderously. For a brief moment, I felt scared.

"You're nothing more than a murderer Lauraine. You always will be! How can you live a normal life in society when you have blood on your hands?"

Those words struck me hard. Slowly, my vision started to fade into red, fury blazing inside of me. The five tenets be damned, I was close to murdering the vampire. Realizing that the wrath of Sithis was _not _something I would like to wake up to, I paralyzed Vicente, taking my sword and exiting the sanctuary via the well.

I was _not _putting up with that kind of family.

* * *

Lauraine took a deep, steady breath. A dry lump rose in her throat, a sickening feeling of dread taking over her entire body. Velina whinnied beside her, the horse growing impatient at her owner's mindless standing. The horse footed the ground, nudging Lauraine closer towards the small wooden door. She glanced over at the horse, her black fur shining in the sun.

"Don't give me that look. You're not the one walking into a homicidal cult's base, are you? And besides, these people are dangerous. See?" She moved her cloak to the side, rolling up the bottom of her shirt. A clear, fresh scar trailed across the bottom left side of her abdomen. The horse whinnied again in reply. "I know it's for the good of Tamriel, but am I not allowed to be nervous when walking into a group of homicidal maniacs who have no qualms about killing me?!"

Lauraine sighed once more, fingering the handle of her new Akaviri Katana. When she had arrived at Cloud Ruler Temple, she had staggered over to the outside fire, leaning against it. Stupid thing to do, but it was the only place she could lean against whilst listening to Martins 'speech'. He had spoken to her briefly afterwards, and then she had proceeded to heal herself with the help of a blade called Caroline. Then Jauffre had made her a blade. Then he gave her a task, and left her to it.

And that brought her to where she was right now. Stood outside the Mythic Dawns base, her horse beside her. These people had the Amulet of Kings, and she really needed to get that back.

Finally, with one more heavy sigh, she gripped the handle, pushing the door open slowly. She was met with the low smell of smoke, revealed to be emitting from the torches that stood on either side of another wooden door. Lauraine thought for a moment, taking in the sight of the cave.

_Why on earth do they have a base in a **cave**?_

_  
_She shook her head, making her way towards the door keeper. He barely moved his head to look at her, his eyes locking with hers.

"Dawn is breaking..." He muttered quietly to her. Lauraine thought for a moment, her mind flashing to the 'Commentaries on the Mysterium Xarxes'. A stupid question, for a stupid code.

"Greet the new day..." Answering thickly, the doorkeeper failed to notice her uneasy feeling. His smiled, opening the door.

"Go inside, sister. Harrow will meet you inside." He roughly shoved her in through the door, slamming and locking the door behind her.

Harrow himself came up to her, eyebrow raised at her. As per usual, Lauraine had her cloak hood up, concealing most of her face. He looked down at her, causing her to feel very small under his scrutinizing gaze. That and he was a good five inches taller than her.

"Welcome sister. You are in time to hear the master read. Hand me all your possessions...?" Bluntly, he asked the question. Lauraine raised an eyebrow, her fingers absent mindedly fingering the Amulet around her neck.

"I don't think so..."

"You refuse to cooperate? Sister, I'm giving you one last chance. Give me all your possessions..." This time, it was more of an order, than a request. Unwillingly, she handed over her swords, keys, books and every other item she had. Reluctantly, her clothing happened to be an item to be handed over. Harrow threw a robe at her; she put it on slowly, handing him her cloak. She felt horribly bare, her face shown and visible to those around her.

She slowly followed Harrow through the caves, mentally reminding herself to make note of all the passages. When they finally reached the Dagon shrine, she folded her arms over her chest, waiting for Mankar Camoran to finish his speech. Only then, could she get the Amulet. Her eyes widened when she saw him open a strange portal, locked in place sorely for survival. She resisted the urge to run up and take the Amulet from his neck, instead watching him in faked awe. Cursing inwardly as he dissapeared, she glared at Harrow as he spoke.

"We have a sister who wishes to join our ranks." His voice rose up to the platform Mankar Camoran had previously been standing on.

"Advance, initiate" The hard, cold voice of Ruma Camoran echoed through the room, causing Lauraine to silently hate Jauffre for not letting her keep the Amulet of Kings on her.

Slowly, Lauraine made her way up the steps towards Ruma. A half naked, beaten and bruised Argonian lay on a stone slab, weakened in more ways than one. She averted her eyes, looking up towards Ruma.

"So, you wish to join the ranks of those who follow Lord Dagon? Lord Dagon does not just _accept _random civilians into his ranks, no. He requires blood. Will you slay the sacrifice?" The question was asked with pressure; Lauraine couldn't help but look back at the argonian on the slab.

"I will slay the sacrifice..."

"Very good. Take this blade, and revel in the presence of Lord Dagon." Ruma handed Lauraine a small silver dagger. Simply looking at the dagger caused anyone to know its deadliness. The prick was sharp enough to slice skin in a soft stroke. Thinking of this, whilst twirling the blade in her fingers, Lauraine thought of a flawless idea.

Her training in the Dark Brotherhood showed itself in one, quick swipe. Only a trained assassin could strike a blow so light, yet so deadly in a matter of seconds. The tendons that ran down the throat were severed in many ways, the blood of the daggers victim spraying out mercilessly and covering the Altar. It sprayed onto the cover of the Mysterium Xarxes, painting it a light red. A low, pain-filled groan was heard as the victim fell dead to the floor. Kicking the body of Ruma Camoran, Lauraine looted her staff and aimed it at her next victim: Harrow.

She shook the staff, the shock waves diving towards Harrow and murdering him before he even registered what was happening. Casting a paralyze spell at the closest Mythic Dawn agent, she sent the 'Enemies Explode' spell at him, laughing violently as his intestines were flown into the air and wrapped around the next agents throat. She sent the same spell at another agent, scattering parts of her brain against the wall.

She finished the final two agents off with the staff, her magicka completely drained. She spun on her heel, discarding the staff. Looting Harrows body, she smiled as she picked up her Katana and Goldbrand. Taking back the rest of her possessions, she made her way swiftly up the Altar, freeing Jeelius and taking the Mysterium Xarxes.

"Damnit Martin, you better appreciate this goddamn book..." Wincing, she rolled out of the way of a large chunk of concrete, falling down and splitting the altar where she previously stood. The shrine to Dagon was falling apart.

Then she screamed. A low, agonising and painful scream, emerging from the delves of her throat and escaping through tight lips. A sharp, thick pain rode across the back of her neck, blood trickling down her chest and back. Casting a small healing spell, she spun to face the direction the attack had come from. She sent the enemies explode spell in the direction of another mythic dawn agent, sprinting in the other direction; not even bothering to look back as the agent was obliterated.

* * *

Slamming the book down on the table, Lauraine ignored the looks of horror that Baurus, Jauffre and Martin were giving her. She had a found a Mythic dawn hood on her way out, and had used that as her only form of hood. Parts of her face were visible, but the eyes of the others were focused on her neck or back. Fixing them with a glare, she gingerly wiped blood from the front of the robes. She was unaware of the reason they were staring; she was only hit with a fire spell.

"Laura? Um..._please _go to a healer..." Martins voice shook her from her musings.

"No, I'm fine, it's only a minor injury-"

"You have an _arrow _wedged into your back. Let one of us help you..."

"Ridiculous. It was a small fire spell" Reaching up to touch the back of her neck, she froze at the feeling of glass and flesh. "Oh crap... That's not good"

"You think? Laura, are you not smart to know that a wound like that is deadly?" Martin laughed nervously, glancing back down at the Mysterium Xarxes. He warily eyed the blood spatters on the cover, spatters that had _obviously _attempted to be removed.

"Laura? Is your name Laura? I thought it was -" Baurus was cut short by two things. The first was Jauffre smacking him upside the head with the hilt of his sword. The second was Lauraine elbowing him in the chest. Hard.

"I am smart enough to know that, yes. But I brought the Mysterium Xarxes..." Lauraine pressed, ignoring a panting Baurus. Martin looked at the cover of the book, eyes widening.

"By the nine! Such a thing is dangerous even to handle!" Yelling, he pulled the book closer to him. Lauraine sorely resisted the urge to kick him.

"Why, you ungrateful little-"

"Forgive me. You were right to bring it here. But I know some ways to protect myself from its evil power."

"That's lovely. Truly, it is." Wincing, she pulled most of the glass arrow from her back. "But if you don't mind, I'm going to change, and rest in front of that lovely fire that's calling me..."

* * *

Sitting in front of the fire an hour later was relaxing. Her cuts were left open and unattended, yet Lauraine was too tired to care. She had changed into her own unique set of armour, black hood and cloak covering it. Said armour had appeared in a trunk whilst she was visiting the shrine to Azura, still bright and competent as they were when she last wore them in Moonshadow.  
She heard a few doors close, and then slow footsteps towards her. Someone crouched behind her, a metal bowl being placed into the floor with the person.

"You can't honestly expect to sit there and let those cuts become infected, can you?" Martins voice was close to her ear, causing her to surpress a shiver. They hadn't been this close in years, the urge to jump him killing her inside.

"Funny, I was fine doing just that. You should get back to that book-"

"No chance. Now whilst you have numerous infections all up your back, and one horrible wound that doesn't seem to cease bleeding." He was stubborn, now more than he ever had been. Lauraine could give him that.

"Where's Baurus?"

"Outside the door. Now stop moving, its hard to remove your cloak when your moving side to side"

"Now, if someone else was listening outside, that would not sound good..."

"Oh hush up. This, is going to sting..." He hadn't moved her hood, but pulled down the top of the neck section, placing a wet, damp cloth onto her neck. Hissing, Lauraines back arched slightly, the pain stinging and rippling throughout her body.

"Ow, what did you put in the water?"

"Ginseng and Ladys mantle leaves..." Muttering, he rubbed the cloth on the wound, attempting to rid of any form of infection.

"Hm, I suspected aloe vera. Any who, why are you intent on helping me?" She was curious. She could be a deadly assassin sent to kill him for all he knew. Well, the former was true, but she wasn't sent to kill him.

"I'm not sure why myself. But then again, you did save Kvatch, and me on a few occasions... Why did you do that?" Lauraine held back a snort, wincing as tiny shards were removed from her lower back.

"So, any progress on that book?"

"None I'm afraid. It's completely stumped me. But let us not wander on degrading subjects. Tell me, how did you end up in the Imperial Prison?" The question was asked innocently, calmly.

"I was exploring the Imperial Palace when I got caught trespassing. I hadn't even walked through the bloody door. I only touched the handle to the third floor. It was pathetic..."

"The nine may have done something on that day. After all, it led the emperor to you, and then you to me. You saved my home city. "

"Yeah well, I'd have closed that goddamn gate anyway. Kvatch was a place w- I really wouldn't do that if I were you." Her voice changed from sad and remorseful, to deadly and troubled. Quick, well hidden concern laced in her voice, yet spoken with a tone that clearly said_ 'I'll chop you to bits if you don't do as I say.'_

"But you still have some shards of glass on your upper back. All I need do is roll up the cloak. It's not like a simple bra st-"

"If you seriously value your own well being, as well as my own, you'll roll down my cloak, _right now_" She hissed this time, venom corrupting her voice.

Her armour was, stupidly, backless. Had Martin rolled up the cloak mere centimetres further, her mark would be in clear view. She knew Martin wasn't stupid; he would recognise the mark and know immediately who she was. Would he trust her, when she was revealed to be, not only a woman from his past, but also a Liar? She had lied point blank to him, simply by telling him a fake name.

She looked back at him over her shoulder, his eyebrows knitted in confusion. Raising one delicately, he muttered a few spells and let the remaining wounds heal themselves up. Refraining from screaming in pain, she listened to the quiet ripping sound of glass being forcibly and magically removed from her skin, then clattering to the floor.

Thanking him quickly, she excused herself and moved straight to the west wing, throwing her sword down onto a bedroll. Momentarily, she banged her head repeatedly off the door leading outside, ignoring the curious and pitiful looks of Caroline and Jena.


	7. Send Me To Moonshadow?

A/N: I Don't own Oblivion, no matter how much I wish I did.... Thanks to my Beta, TimexHasxGone! Also, I changed the Azura quest around and the layout of the ayleid ruin used, so it would fit in with the plotline!

**The Mortal Of Moonshadow: Chapter 7**

_Life and Death._

_  
Life is something precious, something that we hold dear. We, whether we be human, reptilian or beastfolk, value our lives. Of course, whether we are aware of it, we are all selfish. We may say that we shall run and dive in front of an arrow when aimed at our loved ones, but really, could we do that? _

_  
No matter how much gold is offered, no matter how much love, we will do anything to protect ourselves. We say we will take death for another, but in the end, our own selfish needs will come first. As humans, we value our own lives over any other. So when our lives are threatened, our instincts will kick in. That will result in us obliterating and destroying anything that may threaten our life thread._

_  
Death is something we all dread. If something gets past our resistance, and manages to cut our thread short, we shall always be scared. Unless we are Bosmer. Those lucky buggers can live an extremely long life. But that's not my point._

_Whenever we lose someone dear to us, the pain that ensues is agonising. It twists and tears at your very soul, pulling you to pieces yet holding you together. No matter how many tears we cry, how many days we spend crying, we eventually realize that we can never bring the dead back._

_  
We can spend years mourning the dead, praying to the nine to bring them back. Losing a child, husband, wife, friend or pet is always a painful thing. Something we love has been taken away from us, and we see that as a threat, disguised in the form of another. If things become too painful, or we are simply valiant; there is a simple, rare chance of us giving up our lives to help others._

_  
Necromancy was created to first attempt to bring the dead back. Many, many horrible and disgusting techniques were used to attempt to bring back the dead, but it only ended up creating a mess._

_  
Then Necromancy was used to attempt to prolong life. It still is I suppose. Necromancers attempt to find ways to prolong our lives using corpses of others. Mannimarco, the feared King of Worms, eventually managed to reanimate the dead, something that many necromancers had failed to achieve. Somehow, he managed to find an old book detailing the works of the very first Necromancer. His own notes. But the reanimations were not truly alive. They had no beating heart, they never spoke. They stared aimlessly into space and followed the caster everywhere. _

_  
This kept going to a point where all necromancers were no longer allowed to harness that power, except Mannimarco himself. I have always been a sworn enemy of Necromancy. I find turning corpses into zombies sickening._

_  
My own death was not pretty. Of course, seeing a dead lady on the floor is never a pretty sight. I had always thought my death would be different to the way it was, always thought it would be some dramatic event. In a way it was, but still a boring death that I knew was coming the second that staff was raised._

_  
But what if there was a way to completely bring the dead back? With a beating heart, functioning voice box and organs, with a will of their own? What if the Ayleids had found something all those years ago, that helped that? The Ayleids were very powerful people. Powerful enough to raise the dead?_

_All I know is that the Ayleids found something. They must have. Proof of that lies within The Old Way. But we should not dwell on old forgotten escape routes._

* * *

I cried. What else could I do? I had been put to bed in my nursery by Esmya, only to wake up in the middle of a dark, yet strangely bright room. A tall, cloaked lady held a tight grip on my wrist, preventing me from moving away from her. I wiped away the tears that were cascading down my cheeks, looking up at the other people in the room.

Three women, not including the one who was gripping onto me tightly. Three men also stood in the room, two of them leaning against the back wall with their arms folded. One looked at me with a malicious glint in his eyes, scaring me half to death. Another also stood in the room, yet I was unable to tell if this person was male or female.

Two of the women looked at me curiously, both stood closer to each other than any other in the room. The other woman stood a little further back, her cloak pulled down and hanging over her arms.

The two men against the wall (one of them was a man, the other was some form of creature I did not even know _existed) _both looked over at me. One held his beard in his hand, staring me down. The other was still giving me a malicious look. The final male stood furthest away from me, his vision focused on the male/female. He was glaring him/her down with such animosity, it scared me to look at him.

The male/female was stood in her place, glancing at me and then back to the other male every few seconds. She looked deep in thought, as if wondering what gender to be. Eventually, right in front of my very eyes, the person metamorphed into a female, her thick black curls falling in front of her face.

"What, Nocturnal, are you doing with a _mortal _child?!" The strikingly white haired woman stepped forward from her companion, glancing down at me and then fixing the woman who held me with a glare.

"Why I have her Azura, and what I am doing with her is none of your business. All I'm concerned about is _what _to do with her." She pulled me sideways, then threw me down into a seat that I hadn't noticed was there.

"That makes no sense!"

"Who cares if I make sense you annoying wench?!" The one who had been holding me, Nocturnal I assumed, glared down at the lady called Azura. Azura glowed, her skin setting off a pure white glow that could light the skies in a pitifully dark night.

"You have the nerve to call me a _wench?! _Could you be any more _ignorant?!_"

"Calm down ladies! You are scaring the child. Hey kiddo, fancy any cheese? We have lots of cheese! My names Sheogorath, Prince of Madness...How about that cheese?!" Sheogorath grinned at me madly, causing me to giggle lightly. The lady who was stood with Azura stepped forward.

"Why did you bring her here Nocturnal?! Are you-"

"Stay out of this Meridia! I say we bring the child to _my _realm. I'm sure she'd enjoy a night-"

"Molag Bal! Such a thing is atrocious! I refuse to let you hand over the child to Molag Bal! He is prince of rape for a reason-"

"Shut it Mephala! You're one of my allies, and I will not ha-"

"I don't care! It is a child! Nocturnal, what have you done?" Mephala had glared down Molag Bal, a small sense of disgust radiating from her.

I looked over at the female who stood at the back of the room, hidden by some of the shadows. She looked exited and joyful at watching the others bicker miserably, laughing at the hurtful comments that spurred around the room. I almost jumped backwards out of my seat at the next movement. The man with the golden hair who stood at the back of the room leaped forwards onto the table, transforming into a magnificent, man-size dragon. He crouched onto two feet, his wings flapping behind him. He let out a vicious roar, silencing the others in the room.

"Enough! Put some order into this discussion!" Small puffs of smoke were flaring out from his nostrils.

"You have no right to talk Peryite! You order the lowest realms in Oblivion, hold your tongue!" Mephala turned to face him, giving him the same glare he had previously been giving her.

"That does not matter! This child is going to have to stay with one of us. She cannot go back now..."

"She's not going with Nocturnal, I'll make sure of that" Azura stepped forward, I noted that the glow that had been radiating from her had vanished.

"And why not?!" Nocturnal stood closer to me, gripping my wrist again. I let a whimper escape my lips, desperately trying to pull my arm from her grip.

"The prowlers in your world will rip the child to pieces in the darkness." Meridia glanced down at me as she spoke, a small flicker of sympathy reflected in her sharp golden eyes.

"How about we send her to the hunting grounds? Hircine would enjoy the hunt..."

"What makes you think the girl will get past the first room?!" Azura hissed over at Molag Bal, the strange glow emitting from her once again. I looked up at Nocturnal, hoping that she wouldn't send me to her world. It didn't seem very nice, if it really was dark. And Hircines world didn't seem very nice either. Peryite, the dragon, had transformed back into a human, looking down at me.

"The hunting grounds are out of the question. Hermaeus Mora would not appreciate a child rifling through his library in Apocrypha. Vaermina's Quagmire is out of the question. She would die upon entry to Malacaths Ashpit. Clavicus Viles realm is, well...It's vile. Boethia's Attributions Share is as dangerous as Mehrunes Dagons Dead lands, and Sanguines ten thousand would scar the child. Peryite, can you take the child?" Nocturnal looked over at the now human.

"She cannot stay in my realm. The dremora are sure to kill her upon entry to the Pits." He looked over at Mephala. She shook her head, the glare never leaving her face.

"Afraid not, the Web is no place for mortals... Sheogorath?"

"Too young to survive, however, I could try to wheedle her into the realm safely. Simply entering the door is dangerous to those who are not skilled in magic But should I get her in, Haskil would like another mortal to help him out." Sheogorath lookedover at Molag Bal, who grinned maliciously.

"I would gladly take her in, Coldharbour needs another game. However my ally does not seem to want me too..."

"You are out of the question...Namira?" The woman who stood at the back shook her head.

"The Scuttling voids would be too miserable and boring for someone with such a high personality, My realm will not allow her access...Meridia?"

"Impossible. My Aurorans would attack her on sight. The coloured rooms are as bad as the hunting grounds, I'm afraid..."

"That leaves you. Azura, will you take the child?" Nocturnal, who I now noticed was _bald, _pulled me up off my chair. Azura strode towards me, clasping my hand in her own and pulling me behind her. Her long, beautiful white hair hung down her back, long enough to tickle my nose and cause me to sneeze. Violently.

"I really have no choice. Barring Sheogorath and Hermaeus Mora, my realm seems to be safest. Let's just hope the child does not go blind upon viewing my gardens."

With a click of her fingers, I found the room around me twisting and changing, lifting me up. I landed hard on grass, and found myself staring into the gorgeous gardens that surrounded a magnificent palace. The grass here was green as the felt clothing my father would wear. Million of roses, tiger lilies and other exotic flowers stood out amongst the grass, a seemingly endless maze in the background. Fountains dotted around the garden in different places, adding to the overall beauty of the place.

The palace itself was beyond beautiful. The main hall was the size of a city, endless tapestries hanging smartly upon all the walls. All these tapestries depicted the night sky, different moons and stars painting an untold story. I looked up at Azura, watching her as she strode across the room to sit in a mighty throne. Her robes billowed out around her, stretching out over the sides of the throne. She massaged her temples, not looking up when a strange portal opened up next to her. The blonde haired woman from before entered, her hair so bright it rivalled my own.

"Azura. What are you planning on doing with the child?" She asked Azura, beckoning me to come closer. I did, and as I stood before her, she nodded lightly.

"Honestly Meridia? I do not know. I shall just let her live here. My guards will not attack her, nor will any of the daedra in this realm. I just feel sorry for the child. Why did Nocturnal have to pull her away from her home?" Azura shook her head, placing a hand on my shoulder. I looked up at her, realizing that this place was my new home.

Meridia smiled lightly at me, purely out of politeness.

"Well then, as long as she does not end up back with Nocturnal, she should be fine..." Walking backwards through her portal, she smirked. Azura held her head in her hands, her voice cutting through the stillness and startling me.

"Well child. What is your name?"

"Laura Realdelore"

Azura raised an eyebrow at me, her full lips forming a line. She frowned, motioning for one of her guards to come over.

"Take her to one of the upstairs chambers. Treat her with respect, and do _not _let her fall out of the second floor balcony..."

The guard gripped my upper arm, her fluorescent pink skin contrasting with her black eyes, and the white walls of the palace's main hall. She gave me a sympathetic smile, loosening her grip at the sharp cough from Azura. I shook my head, letting the guard take me up the staircase, fear and dread burning in the pit of my stomach.

* * *

"Wow...That's quite a background. She kept you in Moonshadow for eleven years?"

"Eleven years. I'm the first mortal to ever look upon the gardens surrounding the palace, and still be able to walk around Tamriel with the sight of a hawk. It never once affected me..." Lauraine smiled at Martin, quickly realizing that he would not be able to see it.

They were both walking along the path to Azura's shrine; Martin had specifically asked for Azura's artefact, and insisted he come with her. Jauffre and Baurus had not been happy with the idea, but eventually caved in.

Lauraine looked over at him, still shocked at how much he had changed. Mainly shocked by the change in his eyes, she missed looking at them and being comforted by the sparkle that shone in them. Over the few years, he had turned from the cocky talkful teenager, to a sallow and morbid priest. As she had discovered a few hours earlier, his speed had gone downhill. He went from being as fast as Lauraine, to half her speed.  
Tutting, she looked over at him. He was fingering his sword nervously.

"So, what happened to you after that? Why did she let you go?" He looked up at her slowly as he said this, his eyes hungry for information. She shook her head, looking at the tip of the shrine to Azura.

"That is a different story, for a different day. Come on, we're here." She jumped off a large boulder, landing gracefully in front of the shrine. A dark hand was held out to pull her up; she took it gratefully.

"Lauraine, it's been a while."

"Yes, yes it has. I am here with my companion, Martin..." She nodded over at Martin, who was walking down the path to the shrine. Mels nodded, casting a confused glance at the man stumbling towards them.

"I don't see why you have to jump off large things. Are you just asking for death?"

Lauraine grinned at him, then looked at Mels Maryon. He looked over at Martin then back at Lauraine, raising an eyebrow. She shrugged meekly, fixing him with a look of fear. He nodded once more, then looked at them both.

"Do you have the glowdust?"

Martin looked over at Lauraine, expecting her to shake her head. He groaned when she pulled out the sloppy, smelly goo from her pack.

"Why do they call it glowdust, when it's goo?"

"Shaddup. Just stay close..." Lauraine knelt in front of the shrine, placing the glowdust at the feet of the statuette. Martin came closer to her, watching the statue with interest. The statue glowed briefly, a soft, calming glow.

"Ah, Laura Realdelore. Better known now as Lauraine Bellamont. Or is it Laura Bellkin? I do wish you would make up your mind child. I should probably have you do a task for me. A favour for a favour. I know what you seek. Yet what you seek, is different to what your companion seeks. In the Ayleid ruin known as Piukanda, a bandit has successfully hidden my jewel of life. You know this necklace well child. You also know the twists, turns and sequence of traps in this ruin. Find that necklace, and I shall give you both what you seek..."

Lauraine clicked her tongue, nodding and turning to Martin.

"Do you know where Piukanda is? No? Follow me..." Lauraine muttered the words quickly, grabbing his wrist and pulling him sharply down the hill.

"What is it you seek? She said we wanted different things."

"I seek a way out of this horrid 'blessing' I have upon my body. It affects my entire life, and every ten years I have no choice but to follow along with it. My entire family never realized the problem. But I shall go into that another day. For now, let's get to that ruin..."

An hour later, Lauraine slowly pushed open the thick, white brick door to the Ayleid Ruin. Small beads of sweat dotted her forehead, causing her to muffle a curse. A resounding snap came from inside the ruin, echoing in the halls and causing the hairs on Lauraine and Martins back to stand on edge. She stepped in slowly, pulling her katana from its sheath. Her footsteps echoed in the hallways, her heart stopping at the low, dreadful sound of a zombie. Shuffled footsteps and a low, meek groan was heard from the corridor every few seconds.

Martin moved past her quickly, irrationally attempting to run the corner and run his shortsword through the undead beast. Lauraine perked her ears, hearing a quiet scraping of metal. She moved to grab him, pulling him backwards against her just as a swinging blade emerged from the wall and cut through the air where Martin had previously been standing.

"Oh my-"

"Are you _trying _to get yourself _killed?!" _She released him, pushing him behind her and monitoring the movement of the blades.

"Hmm...One two, one two, one two..."

"What do we have to look for, again?"

"_I _have to look for a necklace. _You _on the other hand, are staying right here. I can't risk you performing another stunt like that."

"But I want to come with you. I haven't seen action for over two months, since I came to Cloud Ruler. I need-"

"No, you need to stay here. If I need you, I'll scream. Loudly. Otherwise, _stay here!"_

_  
_Lauraine sent him a sympathetic look, forcing him down onto the floor. She turned, facing the swinging blades. Taking a deep breath, she slowly tumble rolled, landing in the middle of two of the traps. She stood up, running through the next one and into the corridor. She faced Martin, noting the sour look he had on his face.

"Sulking will get you nowhere!" She saluted him, then turned and ran down the corridor. Running her blade through the zombie, she swung around and, using her sword, pushed it into the swinging blades. Watching as it became chopped meat, she moved back at the spatters of blood that came with it. Waving once more to Martin, she turned the corner and made her way through the ruin.

* * *

"Right...Two blade traps makes step one, gas chamber makes step two...Step three...What was step three?" Lauraine muttered quietly to herself, keeping to the dark shadows and out of sight from the wraiths and zombies. The echoed moans of a dying zombie reverberated behind her, reminding her of the gas room. Step in and out, she mused, or the walls will rise and results in the victim becoming gassed. Because she wasn't watching her steps, her stomach dropped as the ground around her rose to the ceiling and smacked hard against the concrete. She looked around her, eyes widening as all sides were blocked with the walls. They retracted, before rising to the ceiling once more in a matter of three seconds. "Step three, crunching walls..."

Looking for a way around it, she realized that the only way out was to step across them. If she delayed, she would become mashed human meat, something a zombie wouldn't mind eating. The walls descended again and Lauraine took no delays, running across the white concrete ground. Almost towards the end, her foot slipped, causing her to fall onto the dirty floor as the walls rose again.

_Oh mother of Akatosh...._

_  
_She rolled sideways, tipping off the edge of the wall onto the other side, crashing down onto the floor from the top of the ruin. Her leg crumpled underneath her, the crack of pain coursing through the limb causing a loud scream to echo in the halls.

Attempting to heal the wound, Lauraine crawled slowly towards the stone dais in the far corner of the room, feeling slightly cold and very paranoid. The hairs on her neck stood on end once more, threatening to wither and die when a high pitched shriek was heard on the other side of the wall. Looking up at the glittering jewel, she cursed at the realization that the small walls would lower and let the creatures loose the second she touched the gem.

She reached out to take the necklace, regardless of the imminent death. Shoving the necklace in her bag, she turned in time to duck a spell sent towards her from the wraith. She attempted to stand up, dragging her leg behind her as she made a quick exit towards the door. Another spell was thrown towards her, causing her to stop dead in her tracks.

A Burden spell.

"Oh you little-" She turned, attempting to send a destruction spell towards it. No light glowed in her fingertips, and she realized the effects of silence. The wraith moved towards her, shrieking and squealing. Noticing the gold sword it was holding, her heart thudded when it began to swing it around blindly.

"Oh joy..."

Deciding that in another life, she would really have to learn restoration magic a little more, she closed her eyes tightly, waiting for a strike from the sword. Or even the burn of a spell. Hearing the spell being cast, she braced herself for the searing pain, her head thumping at a louder shriek that bounced off the walls in the ruin.

"You okay?" A hand was held out to help her up; Lauraine took it gratefully, stumbling at the shooting pain in her left leg. Martin noticed it, and heaved half her weight onto him, wrapping one of her arms around his shoulder.

"Do you have a habit of ignoring me? I told you to stay put!" Lauraine glared at him, holding back a gasp at another shooting pain.

"You told me to come if you screamed. I clearly heard you screaming about three minutes ago." Martin retorted. Lauraine blinked, glancing at him.

"How the hell did you get past those traps? It took me half an hour to get around the gas room!" Lauraine looked at him, shocked.

"That was a gas room? I thought it just smelt really bad... Anyway, you don't happen to know a way out do you? The door to this room just slammed shut behind me..."

"Bloody hell...I think there is a doorway behind this wall. I'm not sure... Oh, and how the hell does a priest like you know a destruction spell like that?!" She pointed to the pile of sheets and ectoplasm, indicating the dead wraith.

"Someone taught me if a few months back, incase I would run into land dreughs or something like that..."

"Okay..." Lauraine semi led the way to the exit, hissing and gasping every few moments from the dull, aching pain flowing in her leg.

* * *

Lauraine lowered herself onto the bedroll slowly, pulling her hood back from her face. During her time for sleep, Martin would be attending his 'Emperor lessons', therefore keeping the hood up would be pointless. Tightening her hair into a braid, she let a few loose, straggly ends fall into her face.

Hearing the sound of metal against metal, she turned to see Caroline and Jena walking down towards the bedrolls. Both smiled at her, quickly changing and laying on bedrolls on either side of Lauraine.

"So, what's the deal with all this secrecy?" The voice came from Lauraines left, and she looked over at Caroline.

"What do you mean?"

"Well, I'm not sure if the emperor sees it, but _all _the blades have. Even Baurus and Jauffre. It's like some form of bond between you and Martin. A strong, yet hidden bond that lies between you both, singing and dancing when you are near each other... Did you ever know each other before this situation?" Jena answered this time, looking at her with interest. Lauraine held back a sigh, knowing what she would have to tell her 'sister' blades.

"I grew up with Martin in Kvatch. He found me on the gold road and took me home with him, finding me a family and a home. I was eight, he was eleven. We were practically joined at the hip. Eventually I left... He caught me leaving, and by the gods it was the hardest thing I've ever done..." She smacked her fists off the cold floor, furiously wiping a few tears from her eyes. Jena looked stuck between shock and awe, whereas Caroline looked positively delighted.

"So, does he know it's you?!"

"Of course not. It is not something I would risk...."

"Are you planning on letting him know who you are?" Jena looked over at her, eyes wide.

"Perhaps, when he is emperor and has an empress ruling beside him, I shall let him know the true identity of the hero of Kvatch. For now, I am sticking to Laura Bellkin. Now, change of subject please?" She almost begged the question, looking at them both with uncertainty.

"Okay... So, the offspring of an imperial and a Breton. Your opinions?" Jena asked Caroline and Lauraine.

"Ooh, you get a very good looking offspring from that mix." Caroline spoke, then stopped to think of another quality.

"They'd be able to talk their way out of any situation..." Jena smiled over at Lauraine, making her laugh quietly.

"And be able to use Magicka to a full extent..."

"What are you both implying?" Lauraine giggled, louder this time. Soon the three girls were laughing loudly, reverberating throughout the entire temple; until Cyrus came in minutes later to drag Jena outside, presumably to guard the temple door.


	8. Reveal Myself

A/N:Sorry about the last chapter being very scattered and probably confusing,, I've had a very upsetting week, and wasn't really in the mood to write when I wrote the chapter... Sorry ... I don't own Oblivion, only Lauraine Bellamont. Also, I consider Liches to be Bosmer, as they're small... Ayleid king or not. This is just a quickie chapter, so sorry if it's short... I also used altered superchick lyrics towards the end.

**The Mortal Of Moonshadow: Chapter 8.**

_I never really liked Bosmers. Sure, you may get the odd few that are actually competent enough to sit and have a conversation with, but there are also others who are lying, decieving, and murderous._

_There are Bosmers that will act sweet and kind to our faces, but will turn around and stab us in the back when we least expect it. _

_Then there are the Khajiit, who are always relatively nice. Then you get the bandit Khajiit, and then your opinion of them just lowers dramatically. _

_A Bosmer was the cause of my own demise... A demise I __**saw **__coming. Betrayal led me to my death; the unlawful deciet of a backstabbing liar causing me to writhe in pain and endless agony. _

_To most, my life was some stupid little screwed up love story. Well, it was a love story to most; I added in the screwed up part, because that's exactly what it was._

_I died supporting a broken arm and a cut up torso, I was covered in bruises, which were accompanied by a swollen eye and a bloody lip. Like I said before, it was not pretty. When I was found by the Blades, I was already slipping into the void. As I had served Sithis at some point, I never expected a warm welcome from the nine. So I didn't take a chance. I entered the afterlife as healthy as the day I was born. No cuts, bruises or internal injuries. _

_And so I stand by the dread father, as I continue to watch the pitiful life of Martin Septim advance further, laughing all the while in his uncomfortable, awkward and unbearable depression._

_After all, he broke me. I had no choice but to break him back. But I'd say I shattered him._

_After all, even Sithis has no fury like a woman scorned._

* * *

Lauraine sat stiffly on a cold wooden bench in the kitchens of Cloud Ruler Temple. She lightly fingered the armour of Tiber Septim, her fingers lowly rubbing away the collection of dust that had gathered over the years.

She had left a month and a half ago to gather the cuirass. She had spent weeks searching the godforsaken ruin looking for a piece of metal that had caused her more trouble than it was worth. She had almost died at one point, after walking straight into the pilgrimage room, and getting struck by the drain health spell numerous times.

She spent weeks fighting undead blades, faded wraiths and ancient ghosts. All for a grubby piece of metal.

The kitchen cook was the first to see her arrive back, apart from the blade at the watch towers. She was too tired to take note of who it was, instead trudging through the door, into the temple and through a side door that lead to the kitchens. The cook placed a Shepard's pie in front of her; the unnoticed movement caused Lauraine to jump and almost drop the armour.

"No thanks Elena, I'm not hungry." Lauraine yawned, looking up towards the door at the appearance of Baurus.

"Friend, you should eat something. No doubt your food supply has been sparse in the time you were gone. Eat, and then you may go to the Emperors suite and tell Martin the progress of your quest." Baurus nodded towards her, fixing her with a look that clearly said 'eat, or I'll shove the food down your throat myself.

"My progress is complete. I have the armour here... Look" Lauraine held up the armour, forking some of the Shepards pie into her mouth. Baurus moved over towards her, eyes wide.

"You have the armour of Tiber Septim? By the gods, you have performed an amazing feat! No one has survived those catacombs for thousands of years! Martin is not going to destroy it, is he?!"

"Baurus, why in the name of Azura are you asking me? I am not the priest performing the ritual. Martin is. Ask him, not me..." Lauraine sent him a wistful smile, picking up the armour carefully and exiting the kitchen.

She swiftly made her way throughout the temple, stopping outside the Emperors suite. Captain Stefan was guarding the door. He looked at Lauraines raised eyebrow, and nodded to her in understanding.

"He's just retired for bed. Probably the third time since you left. I swear Ma'am; he hasn't slept more than three nights since you left. And you've been gone for a fair few weeks ma'am. He may still be awake." Stefan gave her the information willingly, before sliding the door open and permitting her access. She stepped through quickly, silently.

The door slowly closed shut behind her, she scraping of wood indication that it was shut firmly. Taking another step further into the room, she took in the intricate wooden carvings that decorated every inch of the suite. True to its name, it was fit enough for an Emperor.

Focusing, her eyes settled on Martin. He was sleeping soundly in the silk sheets, the sheets around him twisted and tangled in a way that showed uneasy sleep. Making her way over, she smiled at the regular scrunching up of Martins face, causing him to look much younger, and relatively cute. Pushing her fantasies from her mind, she sat on the edge of the bed, looking down at him fondly.

His hair was tousled, ragged and cottered to a point where it would have to be brushed harshly and severely before it could be restrained to its former shape. A few odd strands hung in front of his face, accentuating his cheekbones.

But the beauty stopped there. His lips were chapped in some places, cut yet soft in others. It appeared as though he had been chewing his lips, presumably in a state of nervousness. The circles under his eyes were appalling, even worse when accompanied with the bags that hung loosely.

Twisting once more in his sheets, he writhed awkwardly, getting caught and trapped between the silk layers. Placing a cool hand onto his forehead, she noted his temperature was above normal. Letting a convalescence spell flow through her palm, she tucked a strand of his hair behind his ear, smiling when he stopped writhing.

"You're stupid. You know that? Stupid enough to forget sleeping and just stay awake staring at the temple doors. You've almost caught a fever. My stupid, idiotic friend, you may have physically matured, and perhaps mentally. But you are still as rash as the teen you once were." Tucking another strand behind his ear, she resisted the urge to kiss his sleeping form, instead replacing the hand on his forehead with another. "And if you're awake and just keeping quiet, you should know this; if you wake up before noon tomorrow, I will personally knock you out to make up for your missing nights of sleep. I'm not worth it if it makes you ill"

Lauraine slowly stood up, grabbing a quill, parchment and ink from the table next to his bed. The sharp scratching of the quill hit the walls of the room, stopping when Lauraine had finished her note. Placing the armour on the table, she put the note down on top of it, letting it flutter down onto the armour.

_Martin, _

_  
I finally got the cuirass, but you were sleeping when I got back._

_  
I don't expect to see you awake until tomorrow noon, or I'll knock you out myself._

_Nice dreams!_

_  
Laura B _

_  
_She slinked out of the room quietly, closing the door behind her with a soft bang.  
Nodding to Jauffre as he walked past her, then stopped in front of the other.

"Blade, have you secured any form of aid for Bruma?"

"Grandmaster, I have accured allies from almost every city. I'm afraid that securing allies from Chorrol was a task I could not achieve, as the Daedra inside the gate was overwhelming. It would also seem that High Chancellor Ocato is more concerned about the safety of the provinces than the heir to the throne. None of his soldiers are available to help defend Bruma. But I believe the Bruma garrison will be strong enough." Lauraine answered confidently, a small lie twisting in with her speech.

She hadn't even tried the Chorrol gate, being too tired and dead-beat to enter. Spending five months closing gates, was not her favourite past time. The colourful whirs of black, red and orange continued to spin around in her mind; the shattered and broken screams of those tortured causing a shiver to run down her spine.

"You have done very well Blade. Head to the bottom floor now, and rest." Jauffre patted her shoulder gently, sending her down towards the sleeping quarters.

_Almost a year I have spent here, three months hunting down the mythic dawn, five closing gates, one week searching a ruin and closing another gate, eliminating spies an all, and a month and a half getting a piece of scrap metal. Oh the joys of my life._

_  
_Lauraine mused, setting herself down on her bedroll. With a smirk, she remembered the date of tomorrow. 27th of Heartsfire, Martins birthday. Seven years to the day she left.

* * *

Lauraine let her jaw drop simultaneously, in union with her stomach. Martin waved his hand in front of her face for a moment, watching her with interest as she regained control of her face. Blinking twice, she stared at him, resentment in her eyes.

"Are... you... taking the piss?"

"I'm afraid not my friend. Laura, this is the only way. What's wrong, anyway?" Concern glittered in his eyes, making Lauraine hold back a small snort. He knew nothing, he would never know anything. That was the way she was forced to live. In three years, when the cycle happened again, would she be erased from him, or would he still remember her?

Would she still be able to stand alongside him as a blade, when he would truly get married? Put up with the pain, she would tell herself. But would the image of Martin loving another woman, hurt more, or would it numb her? Perhaps, in the coming years, she would know.  
Starting, realized she had yet to answer Martins question.

"Are you sure it has to be a great welkynd stone? Is it not possible to use a number of normal welkynd stones?" Lauraine locked eyes with him, her eyes begging him to tell her that they did not need a great welkynd stone. That he was lying.

"I'm sure. Laura, are you scared?" Martin looked up at the ceiling, then back at Lauraine.

"Why would I be so scared of an Ayleid ruin? After all, it only has wraiths, zombies and skeletons in there. The only sound you can hear is smacking flesh and a low brittle hum. Why would I be scared!?"

"You seemed fine when you went with me a few months ago -"

"That's because when I explored that ruin, I knew you were only a scream away. How big is this ruin?"

"One of the largest ruins throughout the empire. I fear I am sending you to your death, but there is no other way." Martin patted her arm, handing her a key before going back to the Mysterium Xarxes. Lauraine mumbled something unintelligible, striding out the doors to the temple in anger and fear.

She walked along the battlements, standing in-between the two watch towers. Sighing as the cold wind whipped her face harshly; she let her hood fall back and embraced the chilly air. Fingering the key in her hands, she ran her fingers over the crusted rust, resisting the urge to break the key in two. She heard soft footfalls behind her, a nervous sensation starting up in her abdomen again.

"You know, I've always been afraid of Ayleid ruins. All I think about, all I can smell and see is death. And death, Martin Septim, is the second thing I am afraid of. I'm scared of many things, but death shall always be the most concerning..." She didn't turn to the side, almost ready to reveal herself completely to Martin. After all, would there be enough time after this crisis was over?

"I had a friend once. She always came into the Ayleid ruins with me, when I would go hunting for the welkynd stones for my Magicka. I used to worship Sanguine, and I would use those stones to replenish my Magicka. She never approved of it, but walked in the ruins with me anyway. I always knew she was scared, but she never showed it. But, moving past that. Before you go, mind telling me what happened after you lived in Moonshadow?" Martin asked her the question; Lauraine could practically see the betraying look of interest and intruigment written across his face.

* * *

I looked up slowly at the two beautiful Daedric Princes in front of me. Both were heavily debating something, both occasionally striking the other. I tightened my pink gauntlets nervously, chewing my lip as they spoke more and more. I knew my time here was up, and it scared me to think that I could suddenly become expendable.

Would they kill me? Or would they set me free? I long to go back to Tamriel, to sit in the snow, sun or rain. Here in Moonshadow, although everything was beautiful and mind blowing, it is always night. No sun, rain, snow or wind. Just an eternal midnight, stretching out across the entire realm.

I am now fifteen years old, yet I still have the physical body of an eight year old. Azura's guards had taught me everything I would ever need to know, ranging from Lock-picking and sneak, to blade and block, to destruction and illusion spells.

Both of the women turned on their heels to face me, Azura's beautiful white hair framing her pretty face, Meridia's striking blonde hair standing out against her dark skin.

"Child, you know your time here with me is at an end. You are old enough to know that no one can know about your time here. Mortals are not supposed to live in daedric realms, and certainly not supposed to be kidnapped by daedric princes. When you return to Tamriel, I'm afraid you will be burdened with a terrible curse that shall take an enormous effect in the long run. Every ten years, your face will be wiped from the minds of others. The memory of you will still lie within each and every person you come into contact with, yet none shall be able to recall your name or face. Much like the curse of the gray cowl of Nocturnal. Only a few people shall be immune to this. It shall be those whom you affect most. Whose hearts you touch with love and understanding. You shall have to find your own way to undo this curse."

"What shall I say to others?" I wondered aloud. What would I say to my parents? Would I be sent to high rock, or another province?

"You cannot remember anything. Your earliest memory that you reveal should be waking up in the place we send you. Lauraine Bellamont, I am sending you back to Nirn, Tamriel, to Cyrodiil." She placed her hand on my shoulder, changing my skin colour, eye colour and facial shape.

My eyes turned from their exotic green to dazzling blue, the blue shrouding and covering the green greedily. My skin, which had turned pink in the moonlight of Moonshadow, turned back to its original pale white. Aching, my face started to change shape quickly, the facial structure altering and twisting. My cheekbones became more defined, rising up my face and causing me to look slightly gaunt. My nose changed from slightly normal to a small button nose, my lips plumper, pinker and younger. I certainly did not look like an eight year old child, more like a very small fifteen years old.

Meridia stepped forward once the pain had gone, placing one hand on my cheek. She smiled sweetly at me, the look in her eye spelling mischief and grief.

"Child, I will give you a gift. Not because I have grown to like you in the years that you have spent living with Azura, but more because I feel that someone with a pretty face and personality, should not have to suffer death. Once you age to twenty one, you shall stop aging. But you will not be fully immortal. You can still die by conventional means. So child, be sure to remember how to dodge a sword." She patted my cheek, both the women sending me one last smile before the black abyss took over my mind, causing me to fall into unconsciousness.

* * *

Lauraine held back a blush, feeling Martins shocked eyes on her back. She pulled up her hood slowly. Smirking to herself, she spared a quick glance over at him, watching Martin as he ran the tale through his head. He looked up again at her, anger, betrayal and despair flickering in his eyes.

"And that, Martin Astiultus, or Septim as _you _are _now_ known, is the story of my early life."

"I don't believe you. Prove it's really you. Let me see your face." The snarl came unexpectedly, a sudden anger flaring up inside Martin. Lauraine didn't answer. Ignoring him, she saluted, and then jumped off the side of the temple, landing harshly on the snow.

Whistling and entering the temple quickly through the steps, she smiled as Velina moved quickly out of the stables, her golden eyes glaring up at her owner. Lauraine cast another glance up at the stables, noticing a chestnut horse stumbling out, eyes dazed.

"Oh you didn't... Bad girl!" Lauraine jumped onto the horse, smirking as the horse purposely made a dive for the edge of the mountain, causing Lauraine to fall forwards and off the side, tumbling down the mountain. If horses could smirk...

* * *

Three weeks later, and Lauraine was standing in front of the concrete door to the ruin. She glanced wistfully at her horse. Velina snorted, hooves scraping across the floor. The horse sent her a look, as if to say; 'Get in there and get it over with'. Lauraine shook her head, glaring at the horse.

"You know I hate these ruins. This stone had better be worth it..." Placing the ring of Khajiit over her finger, she slowly opened the concrete doors, the scraping sound echoing around the ruin.

"Oh joy..."

* * *

Pushing the door to the Morimath hall, Lauraine gulped loudly. Her blade was soaked with the blood of the zombies, her hair infested with the sticky ectoplasm that accompanied a wraith. Because she was out of potions, she quickly looted the Ayleid cask next to the door, cursing loudly at the dispel potion inside. She shook her head, slipping through the door unnoticed.

Casting invisibility, she limped her way past the guardian zombies, resisting the urge to gag at the sickening spell that radiated from them. Her right arm throbbed, most probably broken in several places.

Blood flowed from a wound on her torso, accompanied with an infected cut underneath her lower lip. Gangrene pus started to crust around both wounds, making Lauraine assume she was infected with collywobbles. This assumption was backed up by the shaky feeling in her legs and arms. Unlucky for her, she ran out of her cure disease potions half an hour ago.

She limped out onto the high ledge, gasping at the sight of the Great Welkynd Stone. It dazzled and shone brightly in the dark room, the magic radiating from it in many ways. To look upon it was an honour to Lauraine; to realize she had managed to make it this far, was a privilege.

That opinion was changed dramatically once she had taken the stone from its hold and placed it in her pack. The second it was moved, a loud screech was heard, rising stone was visible, and three flashes of green lights signified the appearance of new enemies. Unsheathing her Katana, she managed to cleave off two zombies heads, her blood running cold at the appearance of the lich.

The last king of Miscarcand. In the flesh... Well, what was left of it.

Dodging a shock spell that was aimed towards her, she ran forwards and struck the lich, rebounding at the successful block.

"Y'know, for a dead guy, you're pretty tough. But you're also very small. Remind me of a Bosmer..." She dodged another spell from the staff, managing to strike the lich across its stomach. "I never liked Bosmers much. Annoying, just like you!" She froze at a shock spell hitting her chest, her heart struggling erratically to continue its faint ragged beating.

Hissing in pain, she struck the lich once more, a glint of gold rebounding into her eyes from the exit. Passing it off as a movement of light, she continued to strike the lich. Desperately striking the lich, strike after strike, her mind clouded with each failed hit.

Lauraine was the baby eagle, learning how to fly. And she had just forgotten how to flap her wings at the highest point in air.

Another shock spell was thrown towards her chest, this time hitting her square in the heart. She crashed onto the floor of the ledge, her heart beat slowing and fading.

_Give up, and lie down. Don't stand through the pain._

_  
You're losing it Lauraine. Stand up, you won't drown._

_  
_Sticking to the latter advice of her conscience, she stood up, using her Katana as something to lean on. The lich went to throw another spell, and she moved too quickly.

Stumbling backwards, her foot slipped over the edge of the ledge. Losing her balance, Lauraine fell backwards, her mind fading, her heart weakening and her vision blacking out as she fell to the hard, cold stone floor with a sickening, deafening crack.


	9. The Gate

**A/N:** And here is the next chappy! :) Thanks to my reviewer, MaskedPainter! And thanks to my Beta: TimexHasxGone! I don't own Oblivion, only Lauraine Bellamont. To the chapter! Also, two side notes:

1) For those who may be interested, my current profile picture is how Lauraine looks, though she has smaller ears for she is not a Bosmer.

2) No chapter after this one for two weeks; I'll be in Egypt and won't have my laptop, or any internet on me. I'm not risking breakage of my laptop when it leaves the plane xD

**The Mortal of Moonshadow: Chapter Nine.**

_So, most would think I died. Especially the Blade members who found me. The glint of gold I had seen at the exit to Miscarcand was not a trick of the light, but the reflecting shine from the golden armour of the Blades._

_  
Caroline and Pelagius had both been dispatched to find me. I was slipping in and out of the void, staring at the Ayleid ceiling and the shocked faces of my comrades, and then switching to seeing my own broken body crumpled at the bottom of the ledge._

_  
My pride, if anything, was most probably the only thing that pulled me through. I refused to be taken back to Cloud Ruler Temple, with the news that I was killed by a __**lich **__of all things. No, that would be weak, and so embarrassing. _

_  
One moment, I would see blood; see the realm of the Dead lands, and then Moonshadow switch in front of my eyes. Next, I would be staring at the dull, dark ceiling of the ruin._

_  
Not my best of times, I'll admit._

_  
So, I bet you also think I died? No, I didn't see those shock spells coming. Nor was my eye swollen, I supported no bruises, and the arm I broke upon my death was my left, not my right. In Miscarcand, I only supported a bloody infected lip, a cut torso and a broken __**right **__arm. I also had the misfortune of breaking my back upon impact with the ruins floor._

_  
No, I'm afraid my death comes much, much later on. _

_  
After the Blades got my body functioning once more, I promptly fell unconscious, waking up weeks later back in Cloud Ruler Temple, my hand still curled around the glowing, powerful Great Welkynd Stone._

* * *

"Whatever you just did, do it again!"

"What?! I can't remember! I've just used three different spells!"

"Then try them all! Whatever you did, it's working. She's breathing."

"Lovely! Uriels ghost, breathe gods Damnit!"

"Cursing is not going to help Caroline, It is a- For the love of Akatosh!"

"What were you saying about cursing?"

"This is not the time! Let us stop the petty bickering! Caroline, whatever you just did, _do it again!"_

_  
_"Okay, okay! I'm doing it!"

"It's working... Her heart's beating..."

"Pelagius, that cut on her lip looks nasty-"

"Focus on the lip later Caroline. Just focus on getting her _alive _first."

"She _is _alive!"

"But Unconscious!"

"She'll live. Come on, we should get her back to the Grandmaster..."

"But I thought the young Septim ordered-"

"He'll be asleep by the time we get back."

"He never sleeps-"

"Hush it Pelagius!"

* * *

I sat on the silk bed sheets, setting the leather bound book onto the table beside my bed. My bedside candle waxed and waned, the flickering flame providing the only source of light in the dark room. I distinctly heard faint scuffles, yet pushed them off as small animals in the city. Of course, that was until a loud bang resounded in my room, a crumpled heap groaning in pain at the bottom of my window.

I immediately grabbed my sword from the set of drawers, nudging the lump harshly. It groaned once more, the figures head lifting up. The candlelight reflected the face, and I quickly set down my sword and punched the figure in the arm.

"Martin! Are you trying to kill me?! For the love of Azura, I would have thought you learned from the last time you climbed through my window!" I inwardly laughed at the memory, remembering the look on Martin's face as the city guard shot him down mercilessly with arrows. They obviously thought he was some form of murderer, up until the part where they saw who he was and apologized uncaringly. They had seemed glad for the action, even if it nearly killed a citizen.

"Why are you here? I thought you'd be up in the mountains performing some form of Sanguine Ritual. Or does the Daedra no longer love you?" A smirk lit my features, barely visible on my own face. I disapproved of his Daedra worship. Sure, perhaps if it was Azura, Sheogorath or Meridia, I wouldn't be fazed. But when I had met Sanguine, I had never liked him. Azura always made sure to keep a tight grip on me whenever we would have to visit his realms. Slip through the ground of one realm, and be forever scattered throughout the other Ten Times Ten Thousand planes.

I helped Martin up, the small smirk on my face disappearing at the tear tracks that glittered his face. They shone in the light of the candle, their very unnaturalness unnerving me.

"S-sanguine..." He staggered, swaying side to side with every attempt he made to stand. I pulled him over to the bed, sitting him up and letting him lean on me.

"Martin. Tell me, what happened?" My voice came out smoother; fully hiding my own hidden fear of what I knew would come next.

"Sanguine. He made me. I couldn't control it. It's like I was watching myself do it..." A sob escaped his lips, filling the room with discomfort and dread. A sob that should never come from the mouth of Martin. I hid my unease skilfully, pulling him closer to me.

"You needn't cry, Martin. What did he make you do?" I rested my chin on his head, wrapping my arms around him. He felt frail, his entire body shaking madly, our roles completely reversed.

"He made us do the ritual. The strongest would get to his realm. I killed them all Lauraine... And I had no control over what I was doing..." Another sob broke loose, my stomach dropping at his words.

"Hush, its okay. You didn't know what would happen..."

"You warned me. Two years ago in Skin grad, you warned me. Gods, you probably think me a murderer..."

"Don't say such things. If you say you had no control, then you had no control." I felt slightly awkward, like a mother comforting her son. My mind did not agree with this statement.

_Or more like a wife comforting her grieving husband?_

_  
_I held back a hiss, tightening my hold on Martin as he sobbed into my night shirt. My heart thudded painfully in my chest when he returned my hug, gripping me tightly.

"This may sound awful, but I'm glad you didn't join in with my Daedra worship. I think I'd be much worse than this, had I done something like that to you..." His head shook under my chin, a dry, broken laugh combining with a shaken sob.

I didn't answer, closing my eyes in defeat. It seemed he had become as attactched to me, as I have him. This will not turn out good.

"Shhh, you need to sleep. I'll stay up and watch the window... You covered up your tracks, didn't you?"

A simple nod was my answer, the owner of the frail, tired body collapsing to the pillow in deep sleep the moment I moved to stand up.

* * *

"You know, I think it's time you spoke truthfully, Lauraine..." I opened my eyes, coming face to face with Azura.

"What do you mean? I am truthful" I shook my head, wondering how the hell I was still alive.

As if reading my mind, Azura smiled lightly and proceeded to answer my mind rather than my voiced question.

"Your Blade sister and brother found you, it seems that your friend dispatched them to find you. Someone cares enough to try and save your cold blooded heart."

I was ataken back momentarily, before reminding myself that Azura was deadric, and no matter how much love she had for her servants, being sweet and sympathetic was not a quality she possessed. I found this out many times during my stay with her. Although kind, she was bitterly truthful.

"I can't bring myself to show my face. I don't wish to hurt him, or perhaps, I do not wish to hurt myself..."

"Either way, you need to think about the long run result. You will stay young whilst he ages. Perhaps you will turn out like the countess of Cheydinhal." My stomach dropped at the vision of Martin murdering, an image I was fmailiar with.

"He would never hurt me, whether he knows my identity or not."

"So you so piously say. But in the end, what takes hold first? Betrayal, love, hurt or jelousy? I cannot undo the works of Meridia, therefore I cannot remove your non-aging mortality. I can however, tell you that to remove your 'curse' as you so call it, you need to be honest. For once in your mortal, idiotic life, tell the reason why you were even taken in the first place! Tell the reason we sent you back, tell the reason _why _you wish to not harm him. Let him know, or you _will _end up spending your mortal life alone."

"How should I do that?!"

"Figure out yourself. Do me a favour..."

"What?"

"Wake up."

* * *

Lauraine groaned, her eyes flickering open. They took in white. Pure, beautiful and loving white. Blinking, the white changed, leaving Lauraine and tuning her vision to reality. Various colours replaced the white: Blue, black, brown, dark brown and gold. Eyes burning, she opened them once more, taking in the room. She held back a gasp when she vaguely recognized the room.

For one thing, she was certain that she was lying on some form of bed. One of her hands were twisted in the sheets, the other curled around something hard. Said hard thing was glowing, her vice-like grip forcing the object to emit a low wane, a sky blue light emmiting from it.

Realizing she was in the Emperor's suite, her mind spun with vague and dark visions. A lich. A tall ceiling, with dark arches and a low feeling of power resounding around the room. Death. A horrible, sick, dark scent of death hanging in the air, on her clothes. In her hair.  
Dead. She was supposed to be just that, right? Crinkling her nose at the strands of hair in her face, she thought for a moment.

_My hair should not be in my face. So that means..._

_  
_She bolted up in the bed, the action causing her stiff joints to creak, and a wave of pain coursing through her body.

"A-Ah!" The pain ran up and down her back, the bones creaking dangerously. A low, soft cough caught Lauraines attention, her head snapping in the direction of the sound. Martin stood on the other side of the room, arms folded. Her chest constricted painfully; whether it was the after effects of the shock spell, or from a sudden feeling of dread, she did not know. The edges of his eyes were a faint red, a venomous glare being sent Lauraines way. She moved to pull her hood in front of her face, her stomach dropping at thin air.

"Looking for this?" His voice was soft, kind. It seemed sympathetic, but the poison in his eyes suggested otherwise. In his hand, dangled her black hood, still spattered with ectoplasm, and most definitely her own blood.

"I uh... Guess I've got some explaining to do..." For the first time in her life, Lauraine felt sheepish.

"Damn right you do." His voice laced with venom, a hidden snake coiled inside the Septim, ready to strike in any moment.

_Oh girl, you've really screwed up this time. I'd watch it; looks like he bites..._

_  
_Lauraine scorned herself, blushing furiously at the images she started to get inside her mind. Sighing, she handed over the Stone, eyes looking anywhere but him.

"Well, I got the stone..."

"Oh yes, because the _stone_ is the_ most important_ thing right now!" A hiss; a hiss that should not have come from Martins mouth.

"Well, technically, it is. Otherwise - Ow" She groaned once more, her head colliding with the wooden frame behind her. Martin's warm hand wrapped around her throat, pinning her against the wall.

"Lauraine..." His voice warned her to be quiet, dangerously close to her ear.

"Okay, I suppose I deserved that, but-"

"Ten years ago, I would have never harmed you like this. Look at what you do to me..."

"In truth, _Martin, _had you known my reasons, perhaps we would not be stuck in this... position." She let his name roll off her tongue, the grip on her throat loosening slightly.

"Why did you leave Kvatch all those years ago?"

"My my, do you not listen to a lady? You already know, old friend..." She winced as the grip became much tighter, her airways closing up. Smirking deviously up at Martin, she noted his raised eyebrow.

"What are you-" Taking some form of action, she pulled her knee up sharply, hitting Martin's groin and distracting him momentarily. Hooking her leg around his, she pulled her leg towards her, sending him backwards onto the wooden floor. She pinned him down, one arm pushed up against his throat.

"Now now, I was telling the truth about Moonshadow. I really am the first mortal to see clearly after walking through those gardens. I really was sent back here, back into the burnt out remains of an Alchemy shop." She laughed as he struggled underneath her.

"But why did you leave?"

"You really need to stop hissing, you know that? I left to protect you."

"Protect me from _what?"_ The fire that burned in his eyes was lessening, extinguishing.

"From myself. Don't you see? Open your eyes and look at the past. Everyone I knew has died. Kvatch, everyone I knew in that city is _dead. _My brothers and sisters born by the night mother are _dead. _Killed by order of purification. The two guards who caught me in the Imperial Palace are _dead. _I watched them both die, as well as watched your own _father _die. Personally, I'm amazed you, Baurus and the other Blades are still breathing!" Gripping the front of his robes, she sobbed into his shoulder, vanishing any anger that was directed at her.

Martin sighed, wrapping his arms around her tightly.

"I fail to see, Lauraine, why I would care about the danger you apparently, 'bring upon others'." He smirked as she raised a brow at him, crawling out from under her.

"What are you-" Cutting short by the chapped lips that landed upon hers, urging her to shut up.

"You never realized, did you?"

"I think, I realized the day I left. Why else would you have chased me that far?" She shook her head, standing up and sitting on the edge of the bed. "And now, dark times have fallen."

"When were you planning on telling me?"

"I did tell you. Shortly before I left for Miscarcand." The retort was the truth, resulting in a small glare being sent her way. "I also made it highly obvious it was me."

"How so?"

"Laura Bellkin. Short for Lauraine Bellamont. Literally shortened versions of my real name." Winking, she showed the Amulet that was still wrapped around her neck. "I'm surprised you didn't recognise my voice either."

"You've changed Lauraine, that is why."

"Alas, friend. It is not I that has changed, but you. You are slower than I remembered Martin, or perhaps I am faster." Musing, she startled at the hand pushing her backwards.

"I still love you, you know that?" The words sent a shiver up her spine, the whisper so close to her ear.

"You, my friend, are sworn to celibacy."

"You will find, that I did not swear to it, as most priests do."

"Oh? And are you sure you kno-"

"I worshipped _Sanguine _for Akatosh's' sake."

* * *

Jauffre stepped into the Emperor's suite early next morning. Having had no sleep the previous night due to frequent bangs, he happened to be in an extremely foul mood. He looked over towards Martin and Lauraine, exiting the suite merely a second afterwards. Cyrus raised an eyebrow, whereas Baurus smirked.

"Uriels ghost! You had better not leave me with another illegitimate heir!" He shouted whilst banging on the door, glaring at both Cyrus and Baurus, who both wore identical smirks. "Wipe those smirks off your faces before they see you!" He smacked them both upside the head with his Dai Katana, shaking his head and leaving the corridor.

* * *

Plunging her Katana into the Dremora's back, she closed her eyes at the spatters of blood that flew at her face. Baurus wiped the blood away for her, thanking her for watching his back.

"Baurus, I need you to do me a favour." She stabbed another Dremora, paralyzing it in place.

"What might that be, friend?" Decapitating the paralyzed Dremora, he motioned at a daedroth coming their way.

"I know Martin asked you to go into the Oblivion gate instead of me... But I need you to disobey that order." She made a deep gash in the Daedroth's arm, causing it to roar loudly.

"You are asking me to disobey an order from the next Emperor? Are you insane!?" Running his Katana upwards, he pushed it up through the roof of the Daedroths mouth, straight through the creatures brain.

"You don't understand. What's inside those gates, they give you nightmares, Baurus. You may not be able to cope with them. Besides, I _need _to be the one to close it. I hate being babied, and since Martin realized who I am, that's all he's been doing. He's been sticking to my side until the second gate opened. The third just completely pushed us to opposite ends of the field." Beheading an unsuspecting scamp, she ripped off some of its flesh, stuffing it in her side pack.

"If he gets angry, I blame you. Okay?" He nodded towards her, bringing his Katana down upon a coming clanfear.

"Thankyou Baurus!" She refrained from hugging him, instead snapping her head backwards at the sickening, violent shake that vibrated underneath her feet.

Spread out forty metres apart from each other, two large, thick poles protruded from the ground. Rising to the air swiftly, an inky black substance wavered between both poles, daring her to dive in. The substance cleared momentarily, being replaced with the familiar, orange and red veil that showed as an entrance to the Dead lands.

Saluting to Martin, she ignored his confused look and ran, diving into the Portal as it stabalized.

Stumbling, Lauraine almost fell to the floor upon exiting the portal. Looking up, her heart stopped at the sight of a huge, deadly looking machine. It crept slowly towards the portal, it's legs letting it move a centimetre every minute.

"Aw holy crap." She ran forwards, hauling herself up a bridge. Looking up at the two towers, she ran for the right one, jumping onto the Corpse Masher and ascending the tower.

Nine minutes later found Lauraine stood outside the World Breaker, cursing herself for her slow timing.

_Nine friken minutes to get around those bloody blood wells! Nine! _

_  
_Running through the open door, she slipped into the shadows, knowing her time was running short. Making her way through the first few levels of the world breaker, she encountered only a few scamps and clanfears.

Reaching the Sigillum Sanguis, she stopped dead in front of a Xivilai that was guarding the stone. It was throwing its Deadric Mace in the air, catching it every few seconds. Sheathing her Katana, Lauraine attempted to slip past it, hissing when her foot caught itself in a small hole. Although a low hiss, the Xivilai heard it, spinning around. It's eyes narrowed at the sight of Lauraine, raising it's mace into the air and swinging blindly at her.

A loud, sickly crack was heard as Lauraine pulled her ankle from the small hole. Her leg gave way, enabling her to dodge another swing from the mace. Throwing it's mace to the side, it instead decided to punch her straight on the nose, Lauraines reflexes acting too late. A hook punch to her mouth followed, the Xivilai using all of it's strength to attempt a breakage of her nose. It missed, instead hitting her straight in her jaw. Wincing, the familiar coppery fluid invaded her mouth, as the strong, grey coloured hands of the Xivilai wrapped around her throat. It's hold tightened, Lauraine's windpipes crushing under the strength of the Xivilai.

Desperate, and in alot of pain from the two punches, Lauraine resorted to using her most powerful destruction spell. Her magicka drained completely, absorbing all of the Xivilai's health in one quick sound of an arcane symbol.

Pushing it's heavy body off her, Lauraine hobbled slowly towards the Great Sigil Stone, slowly placing her hand into the fire. It made no burning effect, as most would think, but tickled and licked her hand. Wrapping her hand around the stone, she pulled it from it's tight hold, stumbling backwards with the force it applied towards her. The platform underneath her crumbled, the entire room setting alight with bright, bold flickering flames.

Her vision turned white, the floor falling from beneath her and letting her fall into space. Feet hitting solid ground, she fell forward into a pair of strong arms, her ankle gave way.

"I-I got the stone..." Her lip let blood leak onto the golden armour, letting her realize it was Martin who was holding her.

"To Oblivion with the stone." This time, not caring about the bloody lip, or about the dozens of other soldiers on the battle field, he kissed her once more.


	10. I'm Afraid Its Not A Disease

**A/N: **Here is the next chappy! Thanks to my Beta, Timexhasxgone, and thanks to those who reviewed!! I am back from Egypt, and So, I present the next chapter! As always, I don't own anything but Lauraine Bellamont. =] Also, I don't own the Sting Lyrics, Either!

**The Mortal Of Moonshadow: Chapter Ten**

* * *

_Love. It is unconditional, powerful, and amazing. We cannot choose who we fall in love with, and that choice can lead to an untimely demise._

_  
It is something that can be shown in many, many ways. It can be shown in the form of bickering. Two people may bicker furiously and threateningly, the hidden spark of love lighting many fires between them._

_  
It can be shown in the form of natural behaviour. Two people may greet each other every single day, with a simple 'Hello, how are you?' When really, they are saying 'I love you. Why don't you see that?' _

_  
Another way it can be shown is through simple adoration. Many forms of love are shown in this way. Someone who offers to hold you tight in the midst of a battlefield, rather than run and live, could be a person who loves you. _

_Yet when the time comes to return the love, to prove it after a life changing act, why do we shun those people away and never let them back in?_

* * *

Lauraine stretched out along the bench, her back aching in numerous places. A shifting of pages was heard, the only other sound being that of the roaring fire, cackling and crackling, bringing warmth to the room. A pewter bowl lay under her, positioned next to her head on the floor. A low rumble was heard, causing Martin to look up from the book. On cue, Lauraine lifted her body up slightly, her head hovering over the bowl as she vomited helplessly into said object.

"Are you sure you're feeling alright?"

"I'm fine... Ow, Ow... Just a little ill. Must have inhaled something the other week." Lauraine hauled herself up with the help of Martin, letting her head loll back onto his shoulder. Thinking quietly for a moment, Lauraine counted. Six days, six days late...

"You've been throwing up all morning, every morning, for two weeks. You entered the Oblivion gate three weeks ago. Go, quickly see Caroline. She may know what is wrong..." Martin ordered her to go, concerned for her welfare. Should she be seriously ill, he would undoubtedly spend the next few nights awake, sick with worry.

Hobbling out the door with a bottle of ale in her hand, the cold wind whipped Lauraines hair around her face, causing it to stick to her sweaty forehead. Glad of the cold wind, she turned to her left and faced Caroline.

"Caroline, do you have anything for a fever?"

"Depends. What are the symptoms?" Raising an eyebrow, Caroline stared at Lauraine, taking note of the sickly green colour she was turning.

"High temperatures and constant vomiting. Mostly in the morning-" Lauraine was cut off by a small squeak from Caroline, who proceeded to drag her through the door to the east wing.

"I should have something here... Oh shoot, where is- Ah! Here it is!" Caroline pulled from the shelf, a small, dark purple potion bottle. A dark green liquid swished about inside, making Lauraine feel slightly queasy.

"Caroline that does _not _look like a cure disease or a cure poison..."

"That's because it is not a cure disease or poison." Caroline grabbed Lauraine's arm, dragging her through the main hall and into the west wing, Martin casting them both curious looks.

Martin looked over at Baurus, raising an eyebrow. Baurus only shrugged in reply.

"Women are very confusing."

"Aye sire. I've never seen Caroline act so giddy. And I could have sworn Lauraine looked scared."

"Hmph, women. Always differ in their moods" Martin shook his head, going back to his book.

Lauraine sent a glare towards Caroline, who had forced her down onto a bedroll, and then thrusted the potion into her hands.

"Right, take a mouthful, ignore the taste, and tell me if you feel better, worse, or the same." Caroline watched her gleefully, a light sparkling in her eyes.

Hesitating, Lauraine took a mouthful of the potion, almost spitting it back out from the taste. It was sour, burning her taste buds and setting a line of fire down the back of her throat.

"Eugh! That's disgusting! What-"

"Do you feel better, worse, or the same?" Caroline watched her, waiting for an answer. Taking a sip of the ale to wash away the taste, Lauraine answered truthfully.

"The same. Like the mutilated, desiccated corpse I felt like earlier." Lauraine stopped talking, staring in fear at the Blade, who was slowly producing a very large grin.

"Eeep! Get rid of that!" Yanking the bottle of ale from Lauraines hand, she lobbed it out the window, satisfied at the smashing sound it made upon impact with the ground.

"What are you- I was drinking that!" Protesting, Lauraine crossed her arms in front of her stomach, glaring at an excited Caroline.  
"You cannot drink such things in your condition!" Caroline promptly started to move Lauraine towards the great hall doors, practically screaming from delight.

"What are you talking about?! I have a fever that is all! Now, if you would be so kind as to tell me _what _you are talking about-" Cut off again, Caroline forced Lauraine into another chair.

"Oh, Ma'am, I'm afraid you don't have a fever. Or any form of poisoning. Actually, this time next year, Martin shall not be the only surviving heir to the Dragon Throne..."

Lauraine stared at her in shock, taking in her last sentence. She processed the words in her mind, only registering tiny parts at a time. Seemingly hours later, Lauraine looked up at Caroline, shock embedded on her face.

"I-I'm...?"  
"Yes Ma'am. You are..."

"Oh holy crap..." Lauraine stared up at Caroline in shock, her hands instinctively placing themselves over her stomach.

* * *

_Promises broken and promises kept. There's the chapter on love where the ink never dries. Sentences served in my prison I've built out of lies._

_  
_"It's so warm..."

"No shit."

"...! Even my mom doesn't let me say such things as that." The boys voice was shrill, an octave higher than it should have been.

"Once again, No shit Martin."

"How do you even know words like that? You're only twelve years old!" He shifted, the heat causing his clothes to become sticky, and his hair to plaster to his forehead. Blue eyes boring into mine, he asked the question with a sharp edge to his voice. I grinned, almost desperate to tell him it was because I am actually a good six years older than him.

"Mother and Father have tendencies to shout those words at each other. Accompanied by flying vases." Watching as his face blanked, he shook his head. Pulling me up, he dusted the grass and dirt from us both, dragging me towards the Arena.

The shouts and roars were audible even halfway across the city, let alone right outside it. Thankfully, however, the Kvatch Arena is quite small, only able to seat roughly two towns. Still didn't help if you were trying to sleep, and all you can hear is someone's intestine being skewered out. But that's how it is, I suppose.

We stopped shortly away from the entrance, both of us planking down onto the grass, too tired and warm to continue moving. Dealing with two sets of stairs would not have made our day. It was like a sudden heat wave had hit Kvatch, causing people to flee their scalding homes and run into the fire outside. My hand slipped from Martins grip, both of us leaning onto the other to save from collapsing.

It's -"

"If you dare tell me it's warm one more time, I will cut out your tongue and nail it to your door. Are we clear?"

"For a twelve year old, you're very violent Lauraine..."

"For a fifteen year old, you're an annoying piece of sh-."

"Someone's cranky. Is the heat bothering you?"

"No shit..." I sent a grin his way, letting it widen when his eyes sparkled, lighting up.

"I had a strange dream last night..."

"Oh?"

"Claudia from the chapel joked that I was a descendant of the bastard son of Tiber Septim."

"What was the dream about?"

"Fire, lots of fire. And lava pools. A hooded figure holding a crying baby. Then you, holding the same baby. The baby had my eyes, and your face. It's all very confusing..." I blushed violently at this; a child of ours. That sort of ending only happens in fairy tales.

"Have you been sniffing crushed tobacco leaves again?"

"Shaddup." A swift response. A touchy subject, it seems.

"How old are we in this dream?"

"Mid twenties..."

"Doesn't the Emperor have dreams like that? Something to do with the dragon blood?"

"That's why Claudia joked that I was some form of Tiber Septim descendant. He's probably just joking..."

"No shit..."

"You've been saying that alot today. Lauraine, are you hiding something from me?" I swiftly turned to face him, confusion lighting up my face in a quick second. _What the hell brought that on?!_

_  
_"Why do you ask?"

"I'm not sure. I just have a sinking feeling that we aren't always going to be like this. Do you think it's because we'll marry different people? It would seem suspicious, if we were still close then. Will we always be like this?"

"Martin, you are sounding like a six year old girl. Get a grip."

"Will we?"

"No."

"Why not?"

I huffed, sending a glare towards the older boy. Perhaps I should just rip his area off, practically force his voice to break. That would be most entertaining.

"Because I said so. Now Shaddup."

* * *

_"When this is over, your place is beside me. You should know that."_

_  
"I'm sure I will make an excellent Advisor."_

_  
"You know what I mean. As my wife. I ask you now, with all of these Blades as witnesses, to marry me. Will you? You know that I simply cannot-"_

_  
"Shaddup and kiss me, you fool."_

_  
_The short conversation echoed through Lauraine's head, still playing even when the warm, flickering flames threatened to burn off her face. Cuts and bruises decorated all of her body; except for her stomach. Determined to keep any injury from that area, Lauraine dodged the Dremora mace that was swung blindly towards her.

"You know, you idiots never learn. I _will _kill you all, and I _will _find a way to send you back. I don't care if your four armed freak of a boss is here!" Pushing her sword upwards, she smiled as the blade cut through the metal armour, a sharp piercing sound cutting through the air. Soon accompanied by the squelching sound as the blade ran through the Dremora Kynval's brain, Lauraine withdrew her Katana and dragged Martin past Mehrunes Dagon. Casting another shield spell onto Martin, she threw him roughly into the Temple, banging shut the doors behind her. Locking out those who ran through the streets screaming.

"Now, whatever the hell you plan on doing, bloody do it!"

Martin gripped her upper arm, his fingers holding on tightly as he dragged her to a corner of the temple. Pulling her in, he gave her one quick kiss. A kiss filled with passion, love, regret, bitterness and sorrow.

"I do what I must do. I cannot stay to rebuild Tamriel. That task falls to others. Farewell, my love. The last of the Septim line will pass now into history."

Tears pricked the corner of Lauraines eyes, Martins words sinking in. He was leaving her. And he wouldn't know.

"No, you're wrong. The line will not pass into history." A broken laugh escaped her lips, salt tears running down her face and hitting the dust covered floor. Martin let his eyes widen momentarily, forgetting for a second the events outside the temple. Shaking, he touched Lauraines face, wiping one tear away.

"You're strong, Lauraine. You can pull through. But now I must go. The dragon waits." He moved his hand, turning and running towards the crystal white altar in the centre.

A loud, resounding crack was heard throughout the temple, the roof being cleanly ripped off. Martin glanced sideways momentarily, before fixing his gaze on the hundred foot tall monster. Lauraine's heart beat widely, threatening to thump out of her chest violently. Mehrunes Dagon raised his axe, ready to swing at Martin. When the blow never came, Lauraine looked up in time to see Martin burst into flames. Shooting into the sky and transforming into an equally sized golden, flaming dragon, Martin became the Avatar of Akatosh.

Both started to fight fiercely, claws digging in and chunks of flesh being thrown to either side of the temple. Mehrunes Dagon swung his axe forward, letting it successfully collide with the side of the dragons head. A resounding 'thump' echoed for far too long, the dragon falling forwards. A third of a second later, when it seemed that the Dragon would fail, the dragon lunged forward, sinking its teeth into the unprotected neck of Mehrunes Dagon. Spatters of blood sprayed over the city, causing everyone outside the temple to freeze in their tracks to stare. The dragon pulled back, sending flames of pure light towards Mehrunes Dagon. A low whine reverberated through the streets, accompanied by a loud, deep roar of pain. Thirty seconds later, after another shoot of white light, Dagon exploded, sending out waves of his own light. Gone. Never to walk upon Tamriel again.

Lauraine cast her eyes back to the Dragon, praying silently for him to transform back into Martin. Panting in exhaustion, the dragon let its wings retract momentarily, soft ragged gasps emitting from its muzzle. Leaning forwards, the dragon cast a single glance around the Temple District, before throwing its head back and letting rip a terrified, victorious roar. The sound spiralled high and twisted itself around the empire like a banshee, screaming at everyone to stop their business and thank the gods, be thankful for a sacrifice that would deeply affect none but one.

A wave rippled through the Dragons body, the flames flickering around the skin hardening, turning the dragon to hard, concrete stone.  
Lauraine froze, staring in shock and disbelief at the concrete statue. The last minute and a half played in a permanent loop behind her eyelids, the knowledge that Martin was gone sinking in. Pain coursed through her body, sublet realization and heart breaking loss diminishing her senses to their minimum. Her eyesight clouded, from pain or the overflow of tears, she wasn't sure. Stumbling forwards, she fell to her knees at the feet of the statue. Aimlessly, weakly, she banged her fists off the hard stone, horrified sobs escaping through her lips.

"You idiot! Why did you have to do that?! There must have been another way! I - I can't believe you!" She repeatedly punched the dragon, her knuckles splitting from the force she put into her blows.

A warm hand was placed on her shoulder, forcing guiding her away from the statue. Numbness began to take over her body, the aching, blinding pain of her heart being tea red from her chest thumping through her body.  
After all, she handed her heart over to Martin the day she met him; it was only fair that it died with him.


	11. Bring Him Back

A/N: Thanks to my Beta, TimexHasxGone, and thanks to those that reviewed! I don't own anything or anyone. Only Lauraine and Karyssa Bellamont. This chapter will just have a _lot _of time skips, with one POV from Lauraine. Only one more chapter after this!

To The Story!

**The Mortal Of Moonshadow: Chapter Eleven.**

_Okay, so I'll admit, I was desperate. Utterly and purely desperate. After seven years away from the man I loved, I managed to spend one year with him, only to have him perform an act of chivalry and get himself killed. Oh, and let's not forget that I was pregnant. With said mans child._

_  
I certainly did not know what to do. I had the Blades breathing down my neck, all hoping and begging for me to give birth to a boy. Of course, after a few dozen slaps in the faces, they agreed that it no longer mattered whether I gave birth to a boy or girl. After all, I would love the child all the same._

_  
I think, without the friendship of Caroline and Jena, I would have gone completely insane._

_  
I once mentioned before, that the Old Way had some connection to the Ayleids. An old escape route that was previously used for escorting Emperors out of the Palace, It holds two stone statues that guard the door to the palace._

_  
When one decides to come across that path, both of these statues spring to life, full of energy and able to cut down humans in a single stroke. Now, these statues were once ordinary humans, turned to stone in an Ayleid ritual. That much is obvious from the aura of mystical myth and strong sense of magic that radiates from them._

_  
Now, if one were to find a way to reverse this ritual, what would be the result? I put my life in danger, risked my child growing up parentless. But I was selfish, as it was a risk I was willing to take. Taking a year to complete, I managed to translate, collect and succeed in my goal. I delved deep into Necromancy. Delved into the oldest, and no longer practised form of Necromancy._

_  
Necromancy, after all, was carved and perfected by the Ayleids._

* * *

I cringed, half expecting to hear a string of curses erupt from within Jauffres mouth. He had been going on and on for hours, talking about how the empire will crumble without an heir to the Dragon Throne. Caroline had nudged me harshly, until I loudly blurted out that I was five months pregnant. With Martins child. Jena, Baurus and Steffan looked positively delighted. Caroline was smacking her face, no doubt having expected me to announce it in a much more dignified manner. And every other blade that resided in Cloud Ruler Temple... They were staring at me in shock.

"I thought you were finally gaining weight for once Lauraine, but you're pregnant? Gods blood..." One of the blades from the corner spoke to me, but my eyes were fixed on Jauffre. After a moment, he spoke.

"Excuse me?"

"The night I came back from Miscarcand... But it was only _once! _And now, well I'm pregnant."

"And it is definetley Martins child?"

"What do you take me for? A whore? I assure you, Martin is the _only _pers-"

"I don't think I need to hear anymore Lauraine. Hmm...We will need to keep you on a tight security watch. If an enemy finds out, you and the child will be at risk. I don't think you'll be able to leave the temple anymore, as it's noticeable, nor when you have had the child. Bruma is off limits, as is wandering through the wilderness." Jauffre ticked off from a list inside his head as I nodded along, until the reality and meaning of his words sunk in.

"What?! B-but I _live _for the wilderness! You expect me to live in this temple, without going out to kill useless animals?! And I'm not allowed down to Bruma? Uriels ghost Jauffre! I'm pregnant, _not _diseased!"

"Oh, so if someone attacks you, and then you and the child are killed, where does that leave the empire?"

"Screw the empire! I am clearly _not _a child anymore, and therefore I have my own-"

"Enough! You cannot seriously think I will let you past the gates if you wish to leave? You are staying here until this child is born, and you will not oppose me otherwise!" I noted that Jauffres face was slowly getting redder, the anger boiling up inside him. A nudge from Caroline warned me to leave the situation as it was, or at least wait until he had cooled off. Sitting back against my chair, I glared fiercly at Jauffre. After all, I was only pregnant. And yet they were treating me like I was diseased, forced to be quarantined. I guess the next few months are going to be very, _very _long.

* * *

Lauraine stood cautiously outside the door, unconsciously shifting her weight every few seconds. Thumping, the room let off its own beat, as it had done for the past year and a few months. Fourteen months, of which her only time outdoors was when she snuck out.

Thump thump. Thump thump.

Drawing her in, Lauraine had resisted the urge to wander inside, a strange pull wishing her to enter. No matter her location, if she was in the Temple, the thumping would be as loud and clear as day. Of course, no one had entered the room in fourteen months. Therefore, surely, the entire room must be coated with thick layers of heavy dust. Shifting her weight once more, she used her free hand to silently slide the door open. Short, stabbing pains cut at her chest as she breathed in through her nose, the musky, woodsy smell still lingering in the room. The thumping quietened, but still echoed in her mind for several more minutes.

Thump. Thump. Thump.

Stepping over the threshold, the thumping echoed one last time, before ceasing, left to be forgotten about in the black abyss of death. The room had, quite literally, been waiting for her to enter.

The silken sheets were still rumpled, messy and creased from the result of a morning rush. A robe hung miserably over one of the dark, brown wooden chairs, screaming for someone to notice it and clean it away. A corner mirror was cracked slightly, barely noticeable to most human eyes. A wardrobe door hung open slightly, a soft creaking sound issuing from the slightest movement. The glittering jewellery box lay neatly upon a shelf, the lid open and dusty.

Moving over towards the Box, Lauraine frowned deeply. Many jewels glowed inside the box, all disorientated and entangled together. Sharp mind taking over, Lauraine grasped the many jewels, discarding them to the side. The only item left in the box, still and cream in colour, stood out against the intricately designed dark wood. Picking up the letter, she successfully unfolded it with one hand, the neat, lacy writing slanting across the page. The letter was rushed, that much was certain.

_Lauraine, _

_  
I know that when you are reading this, I am either stood behind you with a stupid grin on my face as you read aloud in an attempt to embarrass me. That or I am dead. Should it be the former, please, burn this letter, without waving it away from me as you are most likely to do._

_  
If it is the latter, then know this. I am truly sorry. I am writing this letter now as you undoubtedly battle your way through what I imagine can only be hell. Or perhaps I am wrong, and Mankar Camorans Paradise really _is _paradise._

_  
I cannot explain what it is I am feeling right now. For you, I feel an explosion of underlying love, an explosion that has been hidden and locked away since the day we met. For the coming days, I feel dread. Lauraine, I am not sure that I will make it through the next few days. A snake coiled up inside of me, causing feelings of sickness, dread, fear and guilt. Whether it is part of a divine plan, I do not know. Should I die, I feel, no I _know _that you will not be on the kinder end of this. _

_  
I suppose that's how it always has been for us. Yet, after hurt, betrayal, disappointment and disgust, my love for you still resurfaced the day I saw the Blades dragging you to the temple, unconscious and beaten. When I first glimpsed your face after seven years of dreaming, your pale Ivory skin still managed to startle me._

_  
Time is essential; Lauraine, and now the Blades are calling. Remember, no matter what may happen, my heart always belonged to you. And even in death, it will silently beat for you._

_  
Martin_

_  
_Lauraine dropped the letter onto the desk, using her hand to furiously wipe away stray tears. The little girl in her arms wriggled, moving to touch her mother's face, silently asking the reason for her tears . Despite the sudden overwhelming wave of sadness, Lauraine still managed to laugh at the concentrated look in her daughters bright, electric blue eyes. Setting the girl down on the bed, Lauraine handed her one of the amulets to distract herself with. Blue eyes lightened up quickly, curiosity and humour playing in the innocence of those eyes, as Karyssa fumbled with the amulet in awe.

Seven months old, the baby had a head of dark, chocolate brown curls that hung just above her shoulders. Bright, electrifying blue eyes blinked innocently in her eye sockets. Eyes that could pierce the soul, eyes that bored into her own and showed her the truth. Her father's eyes.

Karyssa's eyes and hair colour were her main resemblance to Martin, the only other feature being the ability to light up a room in one, innocent but crafty smile. Buttoned nose, and the curved jaw of her mother, Karyssa's face was showing her to be much older than she was, causing Lauraine to wonder whether Azura's magic had passed through to her daughter.

Sharp and quickly, a knock on the door broke the silence, both Lauraine and Karyssa to stare towards the door. Karyssa held her arms out, willing her mother to gently pick her up. Obliging, Lauraine sat her daughter on her hip, gliding through the room towards the door. Caroline stood outside, an unsure look on her face.

"Lauraine, you have a visitor... Some pompous looking high elf. Started cursing all sorts when the guards attempted to shoot at him." Disdain rolled off her tongue, making it very clear that she had no respect for the man.

"Why did they attempt to shoot at him?"

"He wouldn't give the reason why he was here. The guards got annoyed and agitated. Attempted to kill him, failed, and then let him in the main hall." Emotionlessly, quietly, Caroline pushed open the door to the hall, giving Lauraine a look that clearly said 'If you're gunna kill him, let me help you'. Lauraine handed her Karyssa, before entering into the hall and slowly shutting the door behind her.

Her eyes drifted slowly across the room, freezing in place upon the face of an Altmer she knew well.

"Umbacano. How, _unusual_ to see you here." Sitting down on a stool, she locked eyes with the Altmer, curiosity blazing behind her dull blue irises.

"Ah, Miss Bellamont. It has been too long, my dear. My intelligence recently informed me that you had given birth to twins. A son and daughter. My congratulations..." He spoke highly, as if he knew exactly what he was saying. Baurus stood over by the fire, concern glittering on his face.

"Your intelligence is wrong, it seems. Or at least faulty. Yes, I did have twins. Unfortunately, one died three weeks after birth. I have now, only my daughter. But let us move past that. Why are you here, Mr Umbacano?"

"Ah, your etiquette, as always, is fresh and clear. I am here, Lauraine, because I have a proposition for you. I understand that you are still distraught over the death of the last Dragonborn to pass. I also understand that his statue, the avatar of Akatosh, stands tall in the Temple district of the Imperial City." He spoke slowly, delaying the information. Clicking her tongue, Lauraine showed it clearly that she was getting impatient.

"Sir, if I may, _skip to your point. _Of course you will understand that the Statue stands in the Imperial City. _You bloody live there!" _She fixed a glare on him, her face a stony rock.

"Yes, well. I recently came across a book whilst on an expedition in one of the Ayleid Ruins. Although written in the language of the Ayleids, what little I could translate talked about a strange ritual. Two, actually. One was a ritual intended to turn living, breathing humans into stone statues, to guard their palaces. The other, was intended to do the reverse."

Intrigued, Lauraine leant forwards considerably, sitting uncomfortably on the edge of her chair.

"Please continue, Umbacano."

"Like I said, the second translation spoke of a ritual that would catch your interest. If one had performed the first ritual, turning a living being into stone, then the second ritual would be used to reverse it. In simpler words, turn a stone statue back to its original state. I would be glad to give you this book."

Leaning back against his chair, Umbacano raised a light eyebrow at Lauraine. His eyes bored into hers, daring her to question him. Slowly, he could see her mind processing the information, her features lightening up as she realized just what she could do should she have the book. Frowning, he stared her down when her face dropped once more.

"And what, may I ask, do you wish in return?"

"Oh?"

"Umbacano, you are a man of moderate power and exceeded wealth. You will not simply _give away _an item recently belonging to the Ayleids, without wishing for something in return..."

"As always, your intelligence and knowledge surprise me. Yes, I do wish for something from you. You are still an agile fighter, are you not?" The question rolled off his tongue, making it obvious that he had rehearsed this conversation repeatedly in his mind.

"What about Claude? He will not be happy to hear of this meeting..."

"Answer the question, Miss Bellamont." Standing up, the high elf started to pace quickly around the room. Crackling, the fire behind Lauraine comforted her, easing her forward and letting her reach to what she wanted.

"Yes, yes I am. _Why?!"_ Unnoticeable, the aura in the room started to become tense, both beings starting to get very agitated with the other.

"There lies an Ayleid ruin directly north of the Imperial City. Piukanda. Somewhere in that ruin, lies a key. This key will help me unravel more secrets of the Ayleids, and so you must understand my need for this particular item." He ran his eyes along the ground, letting them travel up to Lauraine's fierce deep blue eyes.

"Impossible. I cleared that ruin out _years _ago. I looted the entire place, searched every nook and cranny. I found nothing but the Item I had been looking for the second time I entered. Unless that key has been placed there in the past two years, I'm afraid no key lies in that ruin." Clearing her throat, Lauraine forced herself to remember every single part of the ruin. There had been some strange indentations upon the wall, but they were inscribed in Daedric. Most probably used to help guard the Amulet she was sent there for.

"_Every _nook and cranny? Lauraine, the Ayleids were masters at hiding things that didn't need to be found. Go back through that ruin. You may just find something."

Umbacano tied his robe around his body, nodding once in her direction, before spinning on his heel and heading for the door. Turning his head back, he locked eyes with Lauraine once more. "If you find anything, you know where to find me."

* * *

I stared down at my shaking hands, frozen in fear.

I hadn't _meant _to kill that man, honestly. I think, that my successful shrouded hood is the only reason I'm alive right now. Bereltius Symonar, wealthy, pompous man who resided in a large house in Bruma. A man who plucked on my last nerve, snapping it with one, loud crack.  
I am not a lazy, homeless whore, nor am I the daughter of a whore either. But that man had insisted it, up until the point where my dagger had quickly found itself lodged in his throat. He had bubbled blood thickly from his mouth, the experience oddly pleasuring.  
And that's what scared me.

I have recently been living in Bruma for three months, having left my home in Kvatch to start anew. Of course, what do I do, two and a half months in? I Kill a nobleman. An arrogant, cocky nobleman, but still, not my point.

Laying down upon my bed in my Bruma home, I stared aimlessly into the darkness, not hearing the soft, padding footsteps until they were beside my bed. I felt the human lean towards me, the room growing oddly cold.

The man had barely opened his mouth to speak when he was thrown across the room, his body trapped between the wall and my own body. My new dagger pricked the skin on his throat, light enough to cut the skin, but not enough to make it bleed.

Putting a quick, sweet smile on my face, I looked into the chocolate brown eyes of my visitor, feeling my stomach flip slightly at the amused look in his eyes.

"I think, you just ruined my opening scentence..."

Pushing harder on my dagger, I quickly searched over him. Dark, blood stained robes, with a hood to boot. Cold, fearful aura.

A member of The Dark Brotherhood.

"Opening sentence?" Still keeping him up against the wall, I loosened the hold on my dagger, too dazed at the fact I had successfully pinned a Dark Brotherhood member against the wall to realize what he was doing.

His left leg hooked tightly around my right, his leg moving in a sweeping motion to send me flying backwards. Bones creaking, I landed directly on my back on the wooden floor of my Bruma home.

"I was intending on saying; 'You sleep rather soundly for a murderer'. However, that was not the case." His voice was smooth, calming any distrust I may have had.

"Anyway. You must be here for a reason..."

"Indeed. I am a speaker for the Dark Brotherhood, and I am here to bear an offering. An Opportunity to join our rather, unique family." He dusted himself off, leaving me to pick myself up off the floor. I harrumphed, sitting on the edge of my bed in interest.

"I'm listening..."

"Then heed my words, and listen well, for I shall not repeat them. In the city of Cheydinhal, lies the home of a very rich Dark Elf. Her name is Elevana Hlaalu. Kill her, and your initiation into the Dark Brotherhood will be complete. Do this, and the next time you sleep in a location I deem secure, I will reveal myself once more, bearing the love of your new 'family'. His voice trailed off, signifying that he had relayed that conversation many times in his life.

"I'll do it."

"Excellent! Now please, take this. It is a virgin blade, and thirsts for blood. May it serve your endeavours well."

Nodding slowly, I sheathed the blade in my current holder, not caring to look at the unique designs upon it. I looked once more upon his face, carefully analyzing it.

He had terrible bags under his eyes, the telltale sign that he had not had a good night of sleep in many days. Premature wrinkles adorned his forehead, an aura of tension and boredom radiating from him. I wondered how much he was getting paid to relay the same lines every day, to fake enthusiasm and excitement at a new recruit. From his acting skills, I guessed it was not very much.

I never heard the Speaker leave my house, but the absense of purple life on both floors told me he had indeed left.

* * *

A low, angry curse echoed throughout the ruin, bouncing off the concrete walls and lifting around the complex; soon followed by an amused laugh.

"Well well. If you wish to hide something, hide it in plain sight. Never thought the Ayleids would be the type to use _that _method." Shaking her head, Lauraine gently lifted the rusty key from it's stand in the hall. Thick layers of dust had covered the pale white key, enabling it to effectively blend in with the dusty white walls of the Ayleid ruin. Pocketing the key, Lauraine turned swiftly on her heel, sneaking the rest of the way out of the ruin.

Seeming agitated, Velina rode exceptionally fast towards the Imperial City, determined to get Lauraine there as quick as possible. Confused as to why her horse was actually _behaving, _Lauraine boarded her in the stables for a night. Velina's strange obedience became apparent the second she jumped off her horse. Velina moved towards one of the shelters, nuzzling a sleeping horse.

Jet black fur, a lithe physique, and the skull designed Saddle gave away the horses identity. Lucien Lachances trusty steed, Shadowmere. Both horses had been trained together, the same speed and health spells being cast upon them at the same time. Natural, that they should have some form of bond?

Patting them both on their Muzzles, Lauraine made her way into the City via the Talos Plaza Distrct.  
The two guards at the door glanced over at her once, looked away, then snapped their heads back to Lauraine in joy and surprise.

"All Hail, the champion, of cyrodiil!"

Rolling her eyes, Lauraine swiftly made her way through the crowds, entering Umbacano's house silently and unnoticed. The house seemed the way it always had, bare and almost empty of all ancient things. That is, up until one entered the second floor. Umbacano's bedroom area was decorated with ten, unique and amazing statues that Lauraine's adopted father had collected. Stepping through the door to the upper floors, Lauraine let her eyes wander around the room, letting them land on Umbacano, sat idly in his usual chair. His eyes locked with hers, desperation and excitement flittering through his eyes.

"Miss Bellamont! You succeeded! Please, take a seat!"

Doing so, tucking her robes underneath her, Lauraine sat gracefully down on the seat. Her eyes drifted to her pack, her hands reaching inside to pull the key out. Pushing it across the table, Lauraine let herself speak.

"How did you remember me?" Her voice was a whisper, any louder and it would have cracked. Shifting her eyes around the room, Lauraine occasionally flitted back to Umbacano, waiting for an answer.

"I-I'm not sure. I remember sitting here, after a failed mission from Claude Maric, and thinking: 'What happened to Jackson Sarcopte? And his daughter? I could always remember your adopted father, all the missions I sent him on. But you, I could never remember your face, or your name. And then, about three days after the events in the city concerning Oblivion, it all came back to me."

"Please, explain."

Umbacano sat back in his chair, intertwining his fingers together as he thought.

"I was talking to Claude Maric about a place called 'The high fane'. I discussed the layout of the ruin he was to look for, when all of a sudden, your name and face popped into my head. It was like, waking up, and having the wisps of a dream return to you in a split second. I talked to Jollring, and he confessed to having the same experience. He remembered a young girl. That was you" He looked up at her expectantly, an unspoken question flittering behind his eyes.

"I will explain why you forgot me in the first place at a later date. Now please, I would like the book you have spoken of." Holding her palm out, she waited for Umbacano to hand her the book.

* * *

"Miss Bellamont! You have arrived back! Ma'am, where have you been?" Caroline made her way towards an excited and gasping Lauraine, who had run too quickly up the temple stairs, tripping when at the top. Laughing hysterically, Lauraine didn't take in the fact that she was lying back down in the snow. Holding two books in the air, Lauraine giggled harder, clutching at her stomach.

"He kept the deal! He actually gave up the books! And- and- an-" She giggled more, the wave of hysterics passing over her and locking themselves around her.

After Caroline had calmed Lauraine down enough to ask her what was so funny, Lauraine had explained the contents of the book. Jauffre had immediately been called, delaying Lauraines start on translating the book.

"So this, book... It can somehow return the latest dragonborn?" Jauffre stared at the book, raising an eyebrow.

"The details are sketchy at best, but I am assuming so, yes."

"How?"

"Well, the matter of which we are made of are living, enabling us to function ordinarily, with a beating heart, working lungs, and a functioning brain. Stone statues consist of frozen matter. The ritual that transforms a living being into stone freezes the cells inside a living being, forever letting them live on as stone statues, frozen forever. Perform the reversed ritual on one who has _previously _been turned to stone, and one can effectively turn stone to it's original state. Perform the reverse on any old statue, and it won't work, for stone is stone. Perform this on the actual Dragon Avatar in the temple district, and we _may _have a chance at restoring the dragon throne without keeping my daughter under temple arrest."

Sending a glare over at Jauffre as she spoke the last part, Lauraine turned her head back to the translation book, getting ready to translate the other. She stared at the two pages, her stomach dropping when she realized she would need to translate _all _of it.

_Well, now I know how Martin felt when he had to translate the Mysterium Xarxes._

* * *

_  
_The book fell from the table loudly, the resulting bang resounding through the main temple hall. Baurus, Pelagius, Caroline and Jena all looked up towards the source of the noise, their eyes falling on a frozen Lauraine. Sitting in the chair, her legs scraped the floor, her eyes drifting around the room.

"I-I've done it." Her words were barely above a whisper, her own shock lacing her words sweetly. A small smile grew on her face, widening and becoming more serious.

The earsplitting screech of her chair scraping across the concrete floor echoed as Lauraine bustled around the table, searching for her pack. When the pack was found, Lauraine cast a spell over the ruined floor in front of the fireplace, satisfied at the invisible pull hovering above the runes.

Having cleared the remains of the portal to Paradise from the spot months before, Lauraine threw man items from her bag to the floor. To be more precise, several feet _above _the daedric runes.

Bloodgrass, Chokeberries, Void essence, Deformed swamp tentacle, a sample of the deceased's blood (Against Lauraines will, this was taken from Karyssa and stored) and finally, a solid chunk from the stone of which the soul is trapped.

"Will it work?" Jauffre came up slowly behind Lauraine, careful not to break her concentration. Keeping her eyes trained on the centre of the objects, Lauraine answered quietly.

"It had better. Otherwise, I just wasted the last five months for nothing." Mentally checking through a checklist, Lauraine made sure that everything was in perfect order before she started to quietly whisper the words needed for the ritual. Immediately, the alchemy ingredients combined, leaving a small, golden ball of light to hover in the centre. Not blinking or taking time to breathe in, Lauraine continued the ritual, not stopping at the strange pull from her chest.

The more words that escaped her lips, the more the golden ball expanded, forming a solid outline of a human body. Crumbling, the stone filled the outline, creating solid facial features, limbs and clothing. Dripping slowly, the drops of blood hovered above the frozen figure, waiting to fall and let the others see the outcome.

Blood upon stone. The moment they touched, the features began to fill out, colour returning to the face, the mouth opening and closing.

"...morte invertita."

A loud gasp came from the figure, his body crumpling to the floor the moment Lauraine tore her eyes away. Jauffre and Baurus darted forward, only to be stopped by Lauraine pulling them both back.

"Touch him, and you both die."

"_What_?!" Jauffre rounded on her, fixing her with a fierce glare.

"Something I may have failed to mention before. Martin is there, and barely alive. He needs time for his soul to be brought back fully from Aetherius. Should you touch him, his body will automatically take your life force to replace his own, therefore removing your own soul and life. It will kill you slowly and painfully. You will wish you were dead, rather than have to feel the life being sucked from your very being." Her tone became joyful towards the end, her mind letting her remember freedom. After all, being locked in the temple almost always seemed worse than the outcome of touching Martin.

"How shall we move him?"

"I say we have no choice but to leave him there. Perhaps, if you can roll him onto a bedroll whilst using a sword to move him, then he will likely wakes up _without _neck pain." Lauraine looked down at the crumpled body of Martin Septim, using all of her willpower to keep her from launching at him.

Lauraine turned to look down at a light tug at the hem of her cuirass. Karyssa sat on the floor at Lauraines feet, her bright blue eyes staring up into her mothers. Lauraine knelt down to Karyssa's sitting height, straining her neck to face her.

"Hey, sweetie." Karyssa tugged Lauraines long blonde hair, her bottom lip trembling slightly. "Another strange dream?" Karyssa nodded, light tears in her eyes. Old enough to talk, Karyssa still preferred to keep quiet, only talking when she needed to. Pointing at Martin, Karyssa spoke, her high voice filling the room.

"He was in it. He was arguing with you, and then you fell. And then he was arguing with an old man. But it wasn't baldy." Lauraine held back a laugh, not looking over at Jauffre. Unable to pronounce most of the Blades names, she preferred to name them herself. Jauffre seemed to be most unhappy with his new name.

"What else happened?"

"There was a big hall. You were sleeping on a big white thing. You wouldn't wake up mommy, but you looked pretty! And him-" She pointed back at Martin. "-He was crying. You were still sleeping, but you were also stood next to him, laughing. There were two of you mommy!" Giggling, Karyssa leaned forward, falling face first onto the stone floor through Lauraines blonde curtain of hair.

_Oh Gods. My daughter sees me dead. And laughing. What does this mean? The dragon blood showing already?_

_  
_"Who is he?"

Forcing a smile, Lauraine picked the toddler up, resting her on her hip. Her father's smile lit her face up, her inherited button nose scrunching up at the smell of burning chokeberries.

_If someone had told me fifteen years ago that I would be the mother of my dorky best friends baby, I would have cut out their tongue quicker than I could say the threat._

_  
_"He, sweetie, is your father."


	12. And So It Finally Ends

**A:N:** Last chapter! Thankyou to those that reviewed and helped me finish this story! Funnily enough, I wrote most of this chapter months ago, with Lauraine and Martin being called Raylena and Jamie, but I never had a story to publish it with, nor a category to place it in...Of course, I tweaked it a lot... And then I got Oblivion, and this story was born! Thanks again to all who reviewed! Hopefully, if my writing mood hovers again, there may be a possible sequel. I just need to draft out a storyline for one. I'd also like to say R.I.P To Michael Jackson... He was a legend x

**The Mortal Of Monshadow: Chapter Twelve - And So It All Ends.**

_I never thought much of my death. Meridia had told me I would never age, and seeing as I was pretty adept at defending myself, it didn't concern me. But that didn't mean I wouldn't die._

_  
I briefly stated before that I died with a cut up torso, bloody lip, swollen eye, broken left arm and covered all over with bruises. But that wasn't the cause of my death. But the woman, who had given me these injuries, played a huge part in my final moments._

_  
Once I managed to return Martin from his frozen state, back into his human state, things were going amazingly well. For twenty years, I couldn't have lived a happier life. But towards the end, it became constant bickering, arguments and cold shoulders. A fight to gain the upper hand was breaking out between us. And it was vicious. Even the common folk of the public were noticing something. They never guessed what it was exactly, but they noticed it._

_  
After seven years of my leakage from Kvatch, I ignored my heart and kept on going throughout the physical and mental pain it was putting me through. I eventually gave in._

_  
And this is what I get._

* * *

Another glare was shot across the table, biting harshly at the person it was aimed for. Lauraines steady gaze glared down Martin, making him cringe weakly in guilt and fear.

"Tell me you're sorry one more time, and I swear I _will _kill you." Her normally smooth and elegant voiced was laced with disgust, her body tense and rigid.

"But I am! Lauraine, I have no reason to be allowed your forgiveness, but my love for you now lies stronger than ever now I realize I may lose you!"

"Lose me? I made the stupid mistake of _marrying _you! I am stuck here, and you _know _I can't do anything about it!"

Standing up, Martin slowly moved around the table, his hands trembling badly. Reaching out, his took her cheek in his palm, gently forcing her to look at him.

"Lauraine, I lo-" Her hand had moved to slap his away, missing and instead colliding sharply with his cheek. A stinging pain coursed through Martins face, his hands moving instinctively to cradle his cheek.

"Don't touch me!" Lauraines skin still crawled from his touch, her stomach willing her to gag from the images that flooded her mind.

"What in the name of Akatosh was that for?!"

"What do you think it was for? I do not wish for _your _hand to be upon me! The very thought of you makes me see red in anger, makes my skin crawl in disgust and horror at your touch! Think, Martin, think hard. Think hard about what you have done! Do you even know what could happen, should this get out?!" Although the pain did not show on her face, her heart was slowly breaking. Cracks that had become embedded permanently in her heart were now cracking open with brutal force, the pain of a thousand daggers stabbing mercilessly at her vital organ.

"I didn't think! What would you have done?!"

"I would have thought about the consequences for us! For our children! You should have known I would have found out! You should have known that I would catch you s-" The door to the study slammed open, banging off the wall loudly and causing the room to shake in response. Two young men - both with bright blonde hair, and dark blue eyes- burst through, two sets of eyes darting up to Lauraine. Almost the same size as Lauraine in height, they straightened up, panting slightly.

"Corbyn! Armande! What is your reason for this interruption? I told you that your father and I are having an important discussion, and that we were not to be disturbed." Lauraine smiled slightly at the sight of two of her sons, their constant bubble of happiness never ceasing to burst.

Both smiled widely at Lauraine, Corbyn keeping his gaze with his mother, Armande turning to face Martin.

"Father, the Count of Skingrad is waiting downstairs for you. He claims it's important."

"Mother, Countess Caro is here for your weekly lunches. She is waiting on the third floor." Keeping his gaze, the eldest twin bowed slightly at his father, before attempting to take his mother to the third floor.

"Martin, we will continue this discussion later." Her voice held a warning, a clear warning to Martin to not do something stupid. Armande looked over at his father with an exasperated look, hiding a look of knowledge and confusion.

"So, mother, what were you conversing with father about?" Corbyn asked innocently, his naive nature letting him be completely oblivious to the current situation. Thankful for this, Lauraine was more concerned about Armand, who was the smarter and more observant of the twins.

"Oh, just a little situation that popped up. Nothing to worry about, son. Where are your sisters?" Deciding to dodge the subject, Corbyn failing to realize it, Lauraine watched as he thought for a moment.

"Karyssa is most probably in her chambers, no doubt gossiping with Count Farwil's daughter, Llevana. She is visiting today. And Alessia is out in the city today, accompanied by Marrisa." Brightly, and happy to help, Corbyn told her the information quickly.

"I wonder where she goes on those days out. But I should trust her."

Sighing, Lauraine reflected on her children. Karyssa, still blessed with dark brown hair, and her father's bright blue eyes, had hit the age of twenty-three. Karyssa had a habit of spending most of her days with the Daughter of Farwil Indarys, Llevana. Whilst not a problem in the eyes of Lauraine, everyone else in the Palace seemed on edge with her daughters choice of companion.

Corbyn and Armande, twins and aged nineteen, both still lived in the palace. Both equipped with Lauraines dark blue eyes, button nose and bright blonde hair; they resembled their mother more than their father. Corbyn, although first in line for the Dragon Throne, was the most naive and yet most stubborn person Lauraine had ever known. Armande had the habit of over observing, and then staring one down with the knowledge he knew about most situations. Lauraine had no doubt that he knew about the current situation concerning his parents.

The final set of twins, and Lauraines youngest children, were aged sixteen. Alessia had the same looks as her older sister: Shocking, bright blue eyes, with long thick brown curl longer than her sisters. Alessia, however, had every feature of her father, down to the square jaw and crinkled eyes. Martin and Lauraines youngest and very quiet son was the exact opposite of his twin sister. Angelo Septims hair colour was neither dark brown, nor bright blonde. Caught some way between, his hair was in the straight, shoulder length style that his father wore on a daily basis. Oasis blue in colour, Angelo's eyes had the ability to stare straight through a person, through the curtains of a pupil and into the very soul itself.

"So, mother. What did you do to father?"

"Pardon?" Freezing slightly, Lauraine cast her eyes over to Corbyn.

"He had a massive red mark on his cheek, and he was crying. Who started it?"

"Our discussion got a little... out of hand. But it's resolved now." Kissing Corbyn on his forehead, she sent him off to his room as Caroline came into view.

"Bye mother"

"Bye son..." Lauraine turned to Caroline, intruigment and desperation in her eyes. "Well?"

"It seems that Arvwen has been having secret meetings with your husband, Ma'am. Also, she has been purchasing a few weapons lately, with no reason for her purchase."

"I swear, that woman is getting closer and closer to stabbing me in the back."

"I assure you, Ma'am, she will not have the chance."

"Oh no, Caroline. She already has, in essence." Lauraine looked over at Caroline once more, pausing in front of the doors to the third floor chamber.

"You mean... She hasn't!"

"Aye, she has. If you'll excuse me, I must go now. Will you be outside here?" Taking Carolines shocked nod for an answer, Lauraine fixed a sweet smile on her face, straightened out her dress and made her way into the chamber. Countess Alessia Caro stood up immediately, smiling at Lauraine.

"My lady."

"Countess Caro, a pleasure to see you again."

* * *

Smiling through her tears, Lauraine pulled Karyssa into a tight grip, remembering the time when Karyssa depended entirely upon Lauraine, and Lauraine alone.

A wedding ceremony, taking away Karyssa and letting her bound off and away with her new husband, Guerevyn Indarys. Brother to Llevana Indarys, and son to Count Farwil Indarys, Lauraine believed that her daughter had chose a suitable husband, with enough manners and clever minded enough to match Karyssa's high expectations.

"I cannot believe you talked me into letting our daughter marry a _Dunmer._" Martins voice spoke quietly in her ear, his body too close to hers for her liking.

"If she loves him, she has every right to marry him."

"Love at that age is dramatic, stupid and almost always failing. One will regret the marriage sooner or later; It is doomed to fail."

"Like my marriage to you?" Her retort was snappy, anger fuelling her onwards. "You, Martin Septim, talked me into marrying _you. _Oh, and look where I ended up! With a cheating _bastard _of a husband, and a bitterness between us that refuses to settle!" Martin dragged her into a corner, pleading her to lower her voice.

"Calm down. Can you not let this go?"

"No, Martin, I can't! I did that the first three times you committed Adultery. But the _fourth and_ _fifth _time it happens? You are despicable, disgusting and unpredictable. I used to like that about you, but now-" Lauraine shook her head in anger, furious tears cascading down her face in fast trails.

"All those times, Lauraine, all of them, you know-"

"Shut up, just be quiet. I do not need to hear it. My marriage to you was doomed to fail. Oh, I'd be careful. If someone kicks a contract out for you, and I happen to be the one to be given it, Do not think for a second I will hesitate to carry it out." Shifting her dress a little to reveal her daggers sheath, Lauraine turned back to the party, leaving Martin to ponder on her words.

_Contract? But that would mean... So _thats _where she's been! She rejoined the Dark Brotherhood! Oh Gods, what have I done?_

* * *

I set my pale hand against the dark red and jet black door, numbness overtaking my entire body to the point where I could barely walk. The low thud of a heart beat echoed around the basement, as it always did when this door was concerned. Having made my way through Cheydinhal unnoticed due to the presence of my darkened hood, I slipped into the familiar house silently, making my way through to the basement, and back to the place I once called home.

"What... is the colour... of night?" I immediately envisioned Vicente stood next to me, as he always was when I returned back from Contracts. I quickly thought back to my children, all trapped inside the Palace with my bastard of a husband, unknowing to all the events between me and their father. Only Karyssa knew my destination upon leaving the Palace, my other four children thinking I was still in the palace with Martin in my chambers. They couldn't be more wrong.

"Sanguine... My brother." My voice was raspy, my throat dry from all the sobs I had suppressed in the past few days. The door to the sanctuary swung open, the chilling voice of the door resounding throughout the Sanctuary.

"Welcome... Home." Stumbling through, I leaned against the wall for support, the hovering chill in the sanctuary oddly comforting.  
Vicente Valtieri. He would undoubtedly be the only one up at this hour. Casting 100% chameleon, I made my way into the sleeping quarters, disappointed that Vicentes bed was now occupied by a Bosmer.

My mind flooded with thoughts from mere hours ago, My husband with that _disgraceful _chambermaid that had the guts to call herself a Bosmer. I stared around the room, completely new and different faces occupying the beds. The purification, I remembered, had been cast shortly after my departure. According to Lucien, they had believed him the traitor, and had almost succeeded in killing him, if it were not for the swift timing of his silencer. Only Vicente survived the purification. After all, the silencer was three hundred years too late. Vicente was, in essence, already dead.

Tutting, I made my way throughout the rest of the sanctuary, dimly hearing the sanctuary mother muttering in her sleep. A strange cold chill emitted from the lowest floor, an eerie silence hovering in the air outside the doors. Running quickly down the steps, my shoes made loud tapping noises against the concrete floor, letting me skid to a halt outside the magnificent set of double doors. Magic kept them from rotting, radiating from the wood and calming one who would stand next to it. I dispelled my Chameleon spell, taking a deep breath.  
Rapping my knuckles on the wood, I swiftly entered the room, collapsing into a chair opposite the stunned vampire. His red eyes stared over me, recognition flittering in the blood coloured irises, shock waving over his face.

"Please do not ask me why I am here, I need someone to listen to me, without cutting in front at every chance they can." The vampire moved his lips gently to speak, but Lauraines hand silenced him.

"I am sick, sick of walking into my chambers after my yearly travels to Morrowind to find my chambermaid underneath my husband. I am sick of the constant apologies, with the repeated 'I love you, she seduced me'. At times, I want to run up to my husband, and prove in front of that _whore _that he is mine, and only mine. And then, at the same time, I wish to lodge my dagger so far into his throat that it goes straight through and into my palm at the nape of his neck! Twice in two years it has happened, and both times I have forgave him! But the _third _time?! He is committing an _illegal _crime! It's like some force is forcing us to hate each other! Yet I still love the bastard! _Why?!" _

Lauraines face was soaked with tears, her hair plastered to her forehead in a most grieving manner. Thin tears dangled on her thick eyelashes, grief and confusion showing behind her dark blue eyes.

Vicente looked at her, slowly taking in everything she had said. He thought quietly for a moment, wondering how the young, untrained assassin, strong willed yet with a heart too warm to kill, had turned into the beautiful Empress who imagined about killing her own husband. The thought was... Strange.

"Sister, if you are as sick as you claim to be, perhaps your time in the Imperial place is over?"

"That would explain loads. I don't belong in Martins world. I belong to the world of fighting, killing, and almost getting killed. Of lying to someone's face and stabbing them in the back. My world included sorting things out with a fierce fight. It thrilled me. Martins world consists of talking things out logically, of calm and sincerity. That palace is too calm! You know, I had to spend most of my time for the first year learning to control my temper? I was pregnant, hormonal, and _certainly _not happy! For us to get engaged mere weeks after he discovered my identity, was stupid. We both sit there, a lovely pretty smile on our faces, waiting patiently for the other to turn into the person we once were! I am no longer calm, naive and innocent. He is no longer wild, daring and overly sensitive. What the hell do I do?!" Banging her fists down on the table, the force sent the bottle of Human Blood flying to the floor. Desperately ignoring the scent, Vicente turned to Lauraine.

"You have been married to the man for sixteen years. How old are your youngest children?"

"Twelve years of age."

"Hmm..." Vicente stepped up from his chair, pacing around his room. "Sister, would you like a few contracts to... take your mind off things?"

* * *

Venomously, another low, pain filled glare was sent across the room towards the Bosmer. The result was a hard strike to the back of Lauraines lower arm, a loud snapping noise echoing around the room. But Lauraine held her breath and kept her tears at bay, unwilling to give in to the pain. Unwilling to show the Bosmer she had won.

A small, green coloured bottle hung in Lauraines pocket, unseen to her chambermaids eyes. Containing a deadly poison, it was originally to be used on either Martin or said Bosmer, but the unexpected turn of events had changed Lauraines mind.

"Gods damnit! Why will you not give in?! Make it easier for me, and for your husband! "

A low, sardonic cackle escaped Lauraines lips, the pain not being able to stop her.

"Go on, kill me. What good will it do, when you are hauled off to jail, and my sons hunt and kill down your family? By killing me, the entire empire will grieve, stockmarkets will halt, _everything _will stop, even for just a second. And the whole system will screw up. Because of _your _jealousy." Shaking her head, Lauraine laughed harder. "Killing me will do nothing. Daedric blood runs in my veins. I will most likely go back to Moonshadow, only to be cast back here in time to kill you myself."

Successfully hiding a sour wince, Lauraine looked down at her body. Although her hands were tied, she could clearly make out a severe break in her left arm. Her face felt puffy, a trickle of blood dribbling into her mouth indicated that she had a swollen eye and cut lip. Torso covered in cuts made from an elven dagger, her arms and neck showed clear bruises.

"Like that will happen, my lady" The words rolled off her tongue, a sadistic look in her eyes. Quickly, Arvwen brought down the elven dagger sharply down Lauraines left arm, blood seeping from the wound and allowing the cracked bone to jut out from her flesh. Gritting her teeth together painfully, a small, sliver of a whimper escaped her lips. Arvwen smirked lightly, the smug look leaving her face as quick as it had appeared.

The double doors to the lower rooms had slammed open, the bang resounding throughout the lower floors of the Palace. Corbyn, Alessia and Angelo stormed into the room, accompanied by Martin and Caroline. Arvwen was thrown backwards against the wall, held up by Corbyns smooth hand that was wrapped around her throat.

"Touch my mother again, and your throat will be ripped out so quickly, I'll have time to shove it down into your gut in the most painful way possible before it even bleeds." Staring over at Corbyn, Lauraine felt a little shocked. She had never seen such a blazing fire behind his eyes, nor seen him radiate such an aura of fear and rage. Martin and Alessia swiftly moved over to Lauraine, the latter touching her mothers broken, severely bleeding, arm gingerly. Martin untied her wrists, pulling her into a swift hug. Even in her pain, Lauraine felt too disgusted to be embraced by her husband, instead proceeding to place a well earned jab into his crotch.

Managing to stand up, Lauraine stumbled forward into Angelos arms, leaning onto her youngest son for support. Her arm spilled blood onto the neat, clean floors, the coppery smell filling every occupants nostrils.

"H-how did you find me?"

"Corbyn fell asleep about three hours ago. He woke up screaming about you, saying you were dead. Father realized that he had a vision, and that you were going to die, and we made our way to the room Corbyn described. It seems we got here in time."

Lauraine laughed lightly, the last laugh she would make in this lifetime. Winking at Caroline, she called in her three children.

"Alessia, Angelo, Corbyn. You and your other siblings are my only reason for living. But, my children, life has passed me by. Love that once bloomed tall and magnificent, now lies dead and broken on the doorstep. Your fathers acts of foolishness has broken the law, and my heart." Pulling from her robes five separate letters, Lauraine handed one to each of them, giving Corbyn three. Their names were written on in Lauraines neat and elegant handwriting, seeming particularly new. "Corbyn, tell Armande and Karyssa when they return from their travels, that I loved them, and always will do."

Pulling out the vial from her pocket, she stared over at Martin.

"Lauraine-"

"No child should ever have to see their mother die. No husband should see his wife end her life. But after all you've put me through in the last few years, it's more than you deserve."

"No!"

The staff was raised in a desperate attempt to stop his wife from swallowing the potion. He should have known she would dodge it gracefully. Caroline watched on sadly, unable to choose between friendship and duty. Duty to protect the Emperor and his family. Friendship and honour to Lauraine would force her to respect her wishes, and it certainly seemed that Lauraine had been looking for a way out for years.

Vision fading black, Lauraines head felt funny, her mind spiralling in and out of idiocracy. The strange sensation of falling overtook her body, her legs buckling underneath her in a split second. Luckily, just as she had expected it and willed it, Lauraine was dead before her body impacted with the ground.

* * *

"At precisely four fifteen yesterday evening, Lauraine Septim was found in the lower chambers of the Palace, dead. Her cause of death has not been revealed, however we are searching throughout this horrible death with utmost care, seeing as the body was found in atrocious condition. We have decided to announce this to you through speaking, to help express the shock it will make upon the empire. It is better, perhaps, should the Black Horse Courier _not _publish this event until exact reason of her death is confirmed. Empress Lauraine Septim's body will be on display in the Temple of the One for approximately three days, before it shall be moved to be buried in Green Emperor Way. Please understand that the Emperor and his heirs will not be holding audience in the palace hall tomorrow.  
'Thankyou for listening, you may all return to your respective districts."

Caroline shuffled the papers together, smiling lightly at the presence that stood by her.

"I suppose you want me to keep quiet about the true events?"

"Actually, no. Let the truth out. I want my husband to crash and burn. But protect my children" The voice was distant, as if trapped in another room, behind a solid veil. However, the voice was clearly Lauraines, letting her one unspoken wish to be allowed. Caroline nodded, feeling strangely empty as the presence of the greatest Blade, and even better friend, left her for good.

* * *

Martin sat at the head of the table, Karyssa and Armande on either side of him.

"There... Is some news you must know about. I am sorry to pull you away from your travels, Armande, and your celebrations from wedding Guerevyn, Karyssa." Martin blinked back tears of his own, wishing that there was some way he could undo all his wrongs.

"It's about Mother, is it not?" Armande stiffened at Karyssas words, keeping back the images from the dream he previously had on his travels. Unknown to him, the same dream his twin brother, Corbyn, had minutes before his mother died.

"Yes, yes it is. How do you know?"

"In my childhood, if there was one thing I knew from analyzing you and Mother, it was that _nothing _would tear you two apart. If bad things happened, she would be your support beam. You would not be blinking back tears, if mother was alright. She would be stood here beside you, with her fake, happy smile plastered on her face. She was strong for you, and you betrayed her."

Martin blinked, the faint sting biting at him from Karyssas words. But she spoke the truth, the horrible and underlying truth. And that made him feel twice as bad.

"Karyssa, we all make mistakes... Some of them we never mean to happen, and once they have been done, we can never go back and change them. You know if I had the chance, I would change all those mistakes."

"Just tell me what is wrong with my mother."

"She's dead."

The wave hit the siblings harshly, Karyssas knee's buckled under her, forcing her to sit in the chair next to Martin. Armande swayed, his eyes fogging up momentarily. Gripping the back of Martins chair to support himself, he stared over at his father.

"What did you do to her?"

"_Excuse _me?"

"Your emotions, they are spiralling out of control. I can sense many emotions in you father. Dread, fear, despair. I can sense a overwhelming sense of grief, it is clouding your vision and making you weaker with every breath you take. But most of all father, I can sense... I sense-"

"Guilt." Karyssa finished for him, glaring over at her father. Out of the five siblings, Karyssa was the only one who knew of her fathers antics. "Did she say anything about us before she died?"

"She told your brothers and sister she loved them, including you, and handed them named letters. I assume Corbyn has them." Standing up, Martin strode from the hall, towards his chambers. Leaning against the door, he let the tears flow, knowing that the guilt and despair would continue to eat at him from the inside. He had betrayed the law. He had betrayed his children. But most of all, he had betrayed the only person to look past the poor, third class farmers son, and had loved him for what he was. He had knowingly taken her heart, and shattered it in front of her face repeatedly.

* * *

**Epilogue:**

**  
**Lauraine dangled her legs over the edge of the thick stone, letting a low whistle to go through her lips. Waiting, as she had done for twenty years, she sat at the entrance to Aetherius. Known now by most of the beings that entered Aetherius(A minute few, as none in Tamriel seemed to be as religious anymore) she was sarcastically known as 'Gate girl', before her temper was revealed and it changed back to 'Lady Septim'.

But the reason for her waiting was slowly ascending, his life being torn from him in a way Lauraine could only applaud and watch laughing. She could see the woman, stood eagerly on the battlefield, with her sword ready to run through her husband. A woman who resembled Lauraine too much. It was unnerving.

The woman had achieved her goal, gutting Martin and leaving him to die on the field. It had seemed that the woman had only wanted to kill Martin, as her armies retracted the moment her sword hit Martin. Smiling, she had shaken Corbyns hand, and then left herself. Lauraines children, however, seemed to have no qualms about not healing Martin.

His outline was appearing slowly in front of Lauraine, his ghostly appearance slightly disturbing. When he was finally dead, and his soul next to Lauraine, his mouth dropped open in shock.

"Lauraine."

"Martin." Her greeting was simple and short.

"Why are you here?"

"Because I died."

"I meant, why are you outside the gates?" His face was sympathetic, a wave of sorrow wafting over his eyes.

"Because I don't belong here." Smiling wickedly, her eyes drifted towards the gate.

"Meaning?"

"I never served the Gods. They have forgiven me, but I still chose Sithis over them. Then I found out something extremely interesting."

"And that is?"

"You are dead. You can no longer go back to Nirn. I, whether I had the blood or not, am daedric. My ties to Moonshadow have prevented me from truly dying." Martin raised an eyebrow, questioning her.

"So, for the past twenty years I have sat here, I have pondered. I have realized that, if you could not possibly have lived with me faithfully in life, what difference would death make? We made a vow at the altar, to stay together forever. But, Martin, death has already parted you. Parted us for good." Another wicked grin swiped onto her face, her eyes blazing in fun as she watched Martin start to crumble.

"B-but! I waited _twenty years_ to get here! After twenty years of war with a family of high rock, I find that the woman who killed me, is _your _sister!"

"What?!"

"The woman who killed me, her father had told her on his deathbed that she had a twin sister, who was taken by nocturnal more than fourty years before you died. He told her you were taken, because he had performed an act of such disgrace against the Daedric Prince. She had decided to take you, rather than kill him. He also told her that her twin sister was the current empress of Cyrodiil. She was trying to get in contact with you the day you died. When everything was actually released, revealing that Arvwen had provoked you make the choice of suicide, and I had performed Adultery, she put two and two together, and realized that Arvwen had tortured you. Seeing as Arvwen was killed by some _very _angry citizens, she decided to go for me instead.

"What was her name?"

"Elizabeth Realdelore. She killed me, and then started to have a conversation with Corbyn, explaining that she was his aunt. He didn't seem fazed."

Nodding, Lauraine looked over at Martin, still feeling old sparks of electricity.

"I still loved you, after all you put me through. It hurt with every breath I took, but I didn't care. But I couldn't stand the pain anymore. I felt like my heart had exploded after the fifth time. I waited here, convinced I would rant and scream at you till my dead throat exploded... But I waited because I _needed _to see you once more." Lauraine shook her head, invisible tears falling down her face. "But we cannot be together anymore. Tamriel was our time together, yet it was cut short by one womans agenda." Lauraine could feel her heart start to slowly beat, starting, then stopping. The time is up.

"You... You're becoming solid..."

"I have to go. Moonshadow is waiting for me. Azura is waiting for me. I was sent back to Tamriel on the day Masser and Secuda aligned, revealing the third moon in the sky. My path of erazement was set. You will forget me when those moons align once more. One last thing... You remember the reason I had to leave you in Kvatch all those years ago? That curse was lifted... You know how?"

"How?" Martin was closer to her, sadness reflected in his silver-white eyes.

"I lost you. I lost my love, but gained freedom from that stupid, stupid curse. If I had not had it, I could have made up for seven years with you that I missed out on.

'Perhaps, we may meet again. But the chance of that is very slim. Goodbye." Lauraine leaned forward to plant a ghostly kiss upon Martins ghostly cheek, before she once again disappeared from his sight forever.

Her feet hitting solid ground, knees buckling, Lauraine screamed in heartbreak. There was no going back now, Martin was forever gone from her. They would _not _meet again. Azura looked sadly down at her, noting that her eyes were tightly closed shut. Lauraine was desperate to never open her eyes, to never have to see a world without him.

Azura placed a hand over Lauraines heart, pulling all her memories away. To take away the memory of Tamriel, would be a way to soothe the pain. Rather than wipe them away completely, Azura locked them into Lauraines heart, to be unlocked when Azura felt Lauraine was ready. Until then, Lauraine would never know she had been to Tamriel. Once locked away, Lauraines screaming lessened, darkness shrouded her, her entire body aching in agonizing pain.

"Relax, child. Your body is morphing once again." Azura's cool, calm voice cut through her, soothing the mental pain that she was suffering. Unknowing why she was crying, Lauraine stared around, shocked. Azura had completely erased her memory, back to the point where they were about to send her back. Lauraine was left with no memories of Tamriel. In her mind, Martin Septim did not exist. Not as a Eleven year old on the day she met him, to the forty-seven year old he was when she died. No memories of Oblivion, no memories of Tamriel. No memories of the gate.

"How did I get here?"

"It is best, child, that you do not remember."

"Where did Meridia go? Why haven't you sent me back to Tamriel yet? And why the _hell _am I no longer in an eight year olds body?"

"Ask no questions, and I will tell you no lies. My controlling of Masser and Secunda forbids me to tell you. Go child, to your chambers, and rest."

Lauraine walked around the gardens of Moonshadow, instead choosing to stand and watch the waterfalls, with a sickening emptiness reverberating in her younger, yet seemingly older body.

* * *

The assassin leaped through the darkness, attacking the Morag Tong agent with ruthless efficiency. Daggers screeched against each other, fighting back in order to win. Having been ordered to assassinate the Emperor Corbyn Septim, aged ninety and escaping with his sons and daughter, she had ran into them in the Imperial Substructure. Upon seeing the Emperors face, and that of his sisters, she had been unable to lay a finger on them. An unknown force inside her forced her to turn around, despite the shocked look on the Emperors face. Letting him escape, she had ran straight into a Morag Tong member, who had been hot on her heels for over an hour. And now the fight was on.

The man, she had assumed he was a man due to his build and fighting skills, wore a hood similar to her own. His own face was shrouded by the darkness it provided.

Jumping backwards, she landed high on a ledge, her high acrobatics skill proving handy. Taking a bow and arrow from under her robe, she nocked the arrow, aiming for the Morag Tong member who was stood still, trying to find her in the darkness of the ledge.  
Cutting through the air, the arrow flew towards the assassin, stabbing straight through to his leg. Jumping down, she sent a hook punch to his face, causing him to sway uneasily.

She tied his hands together behind his back, forcing him down onto the cold, concrete floor.

"Now, I'm going to remove your hood shortly, and then you are going to tell me why you are following me. And when you have done that, I am going to kill you."

Emotionless, the female assassins long blonde curls poked out from under her hood, completely cascading down her back in thick ringlets once she removed it. Her pale face looked deadly in the blue light that radiated in the room, her blue eyes utterly empty. A small gasp escaped the male assassins mouth, a similar one escaping hers as she slowly pulled back his hood. Bright blue eyes stared back, dark straight hair contrasting against every other pale object in the room.

Slowly, painfully, the memories that Azura had taken away from her returned to the woman, only now in her new life. His own eyes reflected the same look of shock and disbelief, his own memories returning in a quicker flash. Locking eyes, the words left her mouth in surprise.

"Gods blood..."


End file.
